


The Best Laid Schemes of Mice and Men

by Psyromayniak



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Canon Timeline, Closet Sex, Hurt/Comfort, I'm so sorry, In line with canon, Kinda, M/M, Pansexual Leonard Snart, Smut, Supply closet sex, Tension, bisexual ray palmer, but not really, but only a very small amount, canon characterisation, canon divergence after chapter 9, coldatom, hatefucking, snart also thinks ray is a whiney little bitch, snart thinks ray is hot, sneaky sex on the waverider, this fic is literally just a book of pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 44,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6071896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psyromayniak/pseuds/Psyromayniak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raymond was never supposed to be part of the plan. </p><p>And yet Snart can't help but feel, well, something towards him. </p><p>Ray on the other hand doesn't know how to process his feelings and doesn't do well with casual sex.</p><p>(The unofficial coldatom companion to season 1!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> It's 3:30am and I've been thinking about this all day.
> 
>  _But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,_  
>  _In proving foresight may be vain;_  
>  _The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men_  
>  _Gang aft agley_ ,  
>  _An'lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,_  
>  _For promis'd joy!_

This had never been part of the plan. The plan was to ‘team up’ with these do-gooder idiots and make a fast buck, stealing from all eras and sating his and Mick’s desire to wreak a little havoc.

Getting attached had never been the plan. __As the days wore on inside the Waverider, Snart had felt a closeness building between all of his teammates. Mick Rory would always be his partner and his closest friend, but Sara, Stein, Jax and Kendra had somehow wormed their way into his cold little heart. Hell, even Rip Hunter meant something to him now. They were his companions and he felt an obligation to all of them, to protect them in whatever ways he could. And then there was Raymond.

Raymond Palmer had never been part of the plan.

Sure, he was cute. He was over-attached to everything and everyone, his heart was huge and willing to accommodate even then most hopeless specimens of humanity. Raymond was like a Labrador with his big brown eyes, always looking at you like he could see the goodness inside of you and ready and willing to forgive you any misdeeds. He practically exuded faith in humanity.

It made Snart want to puke.

Leonard always took cruel pleasure in his scathing comments and biting sarcasm. He was always ready to shoot down anything Ray had to say, or at least take it down a notch. The look of disappointment or even, so very occasionally, a smothered rage made Snart happy on the inside. He made it into a game, seeing how many times he could proverbially ‘kick the puppy’ per day.

And yet, despite all that, he found himself unwittingly drawn to the man. He was 6’2”, tan, with perfect teeth and a perfect smile. _He whines,_ Snart would correct himself.   
He’s built, not a wall of muscle like Mick but defined; sculpted even. _He’s got no nerve_.   
But he’s definitely not an eyesore. There’s no harm in letting his gaze wander occasionally, his eyes lingering on that strong jaw and those soft lips…

_Raymond had never been part of the plan._

After each mission they did, no matter how small, Ray seemed to gain more confidence. He was more vocal, more willing to criticise their fuck ups and argue over tactics – not that he had the experience to, of course.

“I knew it wasn’t going to work!” A note of anger in his voice, there was a frown set deep on Raymond’s pretty little mouth as he strode forcefully down through the Waverider, Snart keeping pace beside him.

“Oh yeah? Well you agreed to it in the first place, you could have stayed back and played with your toys if you wanted to,” Leonard didn’t even try to keep the bite out the comment, knowing full well that Ray blamed himself for losing part of his suit to Vandal Savage’s men.

“You were supposed to be calling the shots!” Ray bit back, his fist clenching by his side.

Snart bared his teeth, quickly grabbing Ray by the arm of his shirt and using the momentum of their stride to slam the taller man into the wall of the ship. The sound resonated down the corridor before dissipating to a dull, stony silence.

“It wasn’t my fault that Stein tried to be cocky! You don’t get to pin this on me, Boy Scout,” Leonard’s voice was a harsh whisper, his face centimetres from Ray’s.

Ray was obviously startled, the suddenness of Snart’s actions catching him off guard and forcing his anger out of him like the air from his lungs. At once his features softened and he was returned to the doe-eyed imbecile that Snart had to force himself to be angry at.

“I’m sorry, I was out of line,” Ray looked down as he said it, fluttering those damned eyelashes like it would buy him forgiveness, yet he was, as always, sincere.

Leonard didn’t budge, his hands grasping the material of Ray’s shirt tightly and his lips so close to his damned pretty face. He knew Palmer could probably feel each of his fast, shallow breaths against his skin and he hoped it set the other man on edge, like a cornered rabbit faced with a starving wolf.

Snart inched closer, his chest pressing lightly against Ray’s as he tilted his head to whisper into the man’s ear.   
“Relax, pretty boy,” he laced his voice with as much honey as he could muster, the tones sickly-sweet and seductive, his usual flirt. He expected Palmer to shy away, to turn his head in revulsion and break out of their near-intimate embrace, letting Snart smirk behind his back having succeeded in the petty power play.

What he didn’t expect was Ray’s breath to hitch and become rapid, or to feel the thumping of his heart suddenly in his chest. He definitely did not expect sweet little Raymond to turn his head towards his and look deep into his eyes, their lips bare millimetres away from collision.

And like that they were kissing, Snart’s tongue pressing between Ray’s lips, Ray’s hands gripping the back of Leonard’s shirt and pulling him closer. Their bodies pressed together, Ray pushing his hips forward inviting Snart to grind against the bulge picked out at an angle through the denim of his jeans.

At once Leonard’s fingers found Ray’s belt loops, lacing through them and practically yanking him a few feet to his right. The wall seemed to give away behind him and he was suspended in mid-air, Snart’s hands the only thing keeping him from falling backwards. And then the world righted itself as he was pushed again, not into empty space but into a small room with high shelves lining the walls. They were plunged into darkness with a metallic clang as a door Ray hadn’t even acknowledged to exist swung closed, Leonard’s mouth hot against his throat, before a small solitary light flicked on above them.

“Huh, supply closet,” Ray stated, glancing around at what could only be a mix of cleaning supplies and some sort of… ammunition? “Or armoury. I have no idea…”

“Raymond, does it really matter?” Snart’s tone was patronising, but there was a curl of a smile on his lips. His hands were placed firmly on Ray’s bare chest, his fingers having swiftly and nimbly dealt with his shirt buttons.

“I guess not,” Ray managed to say before Snart’s mouth was once again pressed to his and time became a blur of motion and heat.

Beneath his hands, Raymond was clay; mouldable, tactile and deliciously resilient. He moaned at all the right moments, when Snart’s tongue traced circles over his nipples, when his fingers drew slowly up the length of his shaft, and when rough hands turned him 180 degrees and pushed him not too lightly against the shelving unit. Raymond was an utter delight. He spread his legs firmly and took hold of the cold metal of the shelf when Leonard asked him to, responding with a resounding ‘yes’ to every simple question Leonard asked.

With fingers gently caressing Ray’s opening, the taller man glanced back over his shoulder, cheeks flushed but with a slight furrow in his brow.

“You do have, uh, you know….?” Ray’s tongue was between his teeth.

“Of course. Be Prepared, you should know that Boy Scout,” Snart was grinning as he leaned forward to kiss along the side of Ray’s neck, the other man relaxing instantly at the contact.

The tube of lubricant he kept in his jacket pocket and the condom wrap in his wallet were a miracle of forward planning, he knew, but he felt grateful none the less.

Heat. There was heat and pressure, and Ray was gasping beneath him, white-knuckled against the shelf. Snart’s hands were all over him, gripping his sides at first then his shoulders, experimenting with leverage, changing the depth and rhythm of his thrusts to gauge Ray’s reaction. His hands found Ray’s hips, his cock angling upward and Ray was moaning louder, curses lost between primal sounds.

“You like that, Raymond?” Leonard’s breath was bated, each of Palmer’s moans accompanied by a small contraction that sent white lightning through his body, sizzling up his spine to his brain, “you want more?”

“ _God_ yeah,” Ray managed to splutter, feeling every inch of Snart’s cock running him through and filling him, pressing on every little zone that made him squirm with pleasure.

“ _Fuck_ isn’t a dirty word, you know,” Snart’s right hand reached around Ray’s hips and grabbed his cock bodily, upping his pace. His whole length slamming into Ray at speed, jerking him roughly with each thrust, balls deep and colliding with his G-spot.

“ahh.. _fuck_ , Len-“ Ray was almost whimpering, the pleasure near-overwhelming him. He could feel a pressure building somewhere deep within his gut, aching to be released. “I’m.. I think I’m gonna-“ and then he did –

Leonard let a moan of his own escape his lips as Raymond climaxed beneath him, his cock throbbing as three waves of come spilt hot and heavy onto his hand, which squeezed him a little tighter, milking him for every drop he was worth. It was as if every muscle in Raymond’s body pulsed in tune, teasing a symphony of pleasure out of his own cock buried deep within the other man. It started his own cascade, pushing him to adjust his rhythm selfishly, thrusting deep and fast for himself alone.

Ray could have slumped then, giving in to bodily exhaustion, but Len hadn’t finished yet. He had to hold out.

Ray held fast, his breathing ragged, letting Snart bring himself to the edge. And then it was over, Snart crying out louder than he ever intended with one final, deep thrust into Ray. He held himself there, allowing his own cock to pulse and release his load, Ray feeling every twitch, moaning under his breath.

In silence, they separated from each other, the only sound their deep, uneven breaths. Snart extricated himself from the used prophylactic, leaning against the cool metal of a shelf to catch his breath. The two men made eye contact and grinned, Ray’s smile seeming to warm up the room. He was tousled, glowing, like a Greek demi-god with a golden aura, even as he awkwardly pulled on his boxers and jeans. Snart’s smile was irritatingly uncontrollable, the sight of the man before him evoking something deep within his chest.

_Raymond was never supposed to be part of the plan._

But he was, now.

Maybe fuck was a dirty word after all.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray can't help but keep his eyes off Snart after their escapade in the supply closet.   
> Set after S01E03

In an unspoken agreement, the two men did not mention what had happened between them to anyone. Snart continued to treat Ray with a playful modicum of disdain, choosing to sit apart from him wherever possible; speaking only to criticise or berate the man. His sarcasm always biting, always a little flirtatious, but never more than usual. He played down even their most casual interactions, from simply gravitating instantly towards anyone who was not Ray to aggressively brushing past him in the corridors.

For his part, Ray did his best. But his best was not that great when it came to being indifferent to Leonard Snart. In the long tactical discussions the team had together he found his gaze settling on the line of Len’s jaw, or tracing the curvature of his lips absentmindedly against his own with a finger – imagining the pressure, the taste… Not once did he ever see Snart look back at him, or linger for more than a brief second’s eye contact, the other man’s gaze never wavering from whomever he held in conversation.

“You know, Raymond, you’ve got to stop looking at me like that,” Snart mused. The bridge had cleared since the last meeting, leaving Ray and Len alone together. Snart made his way over to where Ray sat, one leg crossed over the other, eyes downward.

Looking up from the file he’d been half-pretending to read, Ray feigned innocence, “Like what?”

“Like you want to drop to your knees and fellate me in front of the rest of the gang…” Leonard ran his tongue over the front of his teeth, his eyes closed for a brief second before snapping open and fixing on Ray’s, “It’ll give the game away.”

Ray felt himself squirm under Snart’s scrutiny, a blush creeping slowing up his throat and across his cheeks. He had nothing to say for himself, he knew: he’d been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar.

A thin smile spread across Snart’s face, his eyes narrowing further. He raised a hand, reaching out and cupping Ray’s jaw ever so gently. His smile widened as Ray instinctively tilted his head into his palm.

Distantly, the sound of quiet chatter began to permeate the room. People were approaching, likely Kendra and Sara from the pitch of the voices, though the words still undefined.

“We best get going…. Come along now, Boy Scout,” Snart had removed his hand from Ray’s jaw and was offering it candidly to the other man. Ray eyed it for a second before taking it, getting swiftly to his feet.

“Lead the way, Captain,” Ray tried to keep his voice steady. _Tried_.

Letting out an amused snort, Snart clapped the other man gently on the shoulder, “Leonard’s just fine,” he grinned, before stalking off in the direction of his quarters, Ray fast on his heels.

Snart’s quarters weren’t what Ray had expected. Well, there hadn’t been much time to redecorate, sure, but the left side of the room was spotless. The imposing grey steel of the Waverider’s internal walls gave way to the equally imposing, grey steel of the bedframe, on which a single mattress was ruthlessly bound down with tight sheets and hospital corners. There was a small shelf, on which a small framed picture of a young girl sat, smiling and holding a balloon. There was nothing on the floor and no clothes in site, all likely hidden away in the narrow wardrobe at the end of the bed. It was, all in all, very neat and quite pristine.

The other side of the room, in contrast, was a dump. Clothes were strewn across the floor, along with miscellaneous food wrappers and what Ray could only assume were bits of machinery. Much to Ray’s utter dismay, on the unmade twin bed next to a sizable pile of tools sat the hulking figure of Mick Rory, a dirty cloth in hand as he cleaned the soot from the barrel his heat gun.

Mick didn’t look up as they entered, instead opting for a grunt of a greeting – or exertion, Ray couldn’t tell.

“Mick, we need the room,” Snart’s voice unwaveringly cool, addressing his partner as though nothing untoward was about to happen. Like he and Ray made a habit of sneaking back to Len’s quarters in the middle of the day.

“Sure,” Mick said, glancing up at last from his gun, which he was cradling ever so fondly. Evidently he had been expecting Ray’s presence as much as Ray had been expecting his. With Ray standing there awkwardly behind Snart with red cheeks, looking positively bashful, Mick’s eyes widened. His eyes darted quickly between Ray and Len before settling on his partner’s gaze.

The look was one they’d often shared. It said _I know what I’m doing. Don’t worry. And don’t breathe a word of this to anyone._

Mick sighed, placing his heat gun down beside him on the bed before standing and moving slowly to the exit. Passing Ray he clapped a large hand onto the man’s shoulder.

“Good luck, pretty boy,” he mouthed, leaving and letting the door swing shut and click behind him.

“He won’t… tell anyone, will he?” Ray moved forward into the room, doing a quick 360. Snart stepped up and caught his arms, drawing the two men closer together before pressing his lips against Ray’s.

“He won’t tell a soul,” Snart reassured him, “trust me, I’ve caught him doing far worse.”

Len pressed his lips against Ray’s neck, tonguing over his jugular and grinning against his skin as the other man let out a soft moan.

“Were you…. serious about the fellating?” Ray’s hands were resting against the small of Snart’s back, his neck tilted to the side to give the crook better access to his throat.

“Well, I wouldn’t be adverse to it,” Len mused, muffled slightly against Ray’s skin, “If you want to, of course”

Ray paused, his breathing fast, considering.

And then Ray was on his knees, hands fumbling at Len’s belt buckle, pulling down his zipper, revealing a pair of tight black boxers. Snart’s hands were in his hair, fingers weaving through the dark locks, fisting tightly as Ray exposed him.

Admittedly, Ray hadn’t given many blowjobs before. College, and his college boyfriend, were a long time ago. Then there had been Anna, his fiancée, and then, well, Felicity. The latter two had not required blowjobs, so Ray realised he was ever so slightly out of practice.

Ray let himself relax a little, drawing from his past experiences and placed his lips lightly on the other man’s tip. Parting his lips ever so slightly he sent his tongue out to lick a small circle over the sensitive flesh, spiraling towards the centre and lapping up bead of pre-come that had had formed.

Snart drew in a sharp breath, holding it, waiting.

Ray opened his mouth a little more, encompassing Len’s bell-end and using his tongue to draw a zigzagging line over the underside.

Snart let his breath go in a small, understated gasp.

Keeping his tongue in constant contact with the sensitive underside of Snart’s cock, Ray detached his lips and continued the zigzag down to Len’s base, then slowly, oh so slowly, back up.

Leonard had tilted his head back, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his grip tight in Ray’s hair.

“You are such a _tease_ , Raymond,” Snart hissed through his teeth. The younger man was building him up slowly. Too slowly. He wanted him, he wanted to feel Ray around him, he wanted so desperately to hold his head steady and fuck his mouth, taking what he wanted and not giving an inch – no pun intended. But Ray’s hands were gripping his hips, now, his tongue once again lapping oh so sweetly at his tip, his breath cool against his saliva-wet flesh. He could wait.

Then everything turned white and Leonard was moaning and gasping, his hips bucking and his hands groping and grasping for more leverage at Raymond’s head and shoulders.

Ray had suddenly and without warning taken Snart’s whole length into his mouth, forcing the man’s cock down his throat. He withdrew half way and repeated the motion, his tongue licking up and down in unison, moving the man’s foreskin in time with each plunge. Quickly, he settled into a rhythm, judging by ear what tempo suited the thief the best, then changing subtly each time Snart seemed to almost regain his composure.

Hard as he was inside his pants, Ray could feel himself throb a little with each moan Snart couldn’t keep from escaping his lips. It was so hot seeing him unnerved, not in control, his actions always so coldly calculated.

Ray let one hand slip from off Snart’s waist, trailing his fingers down the diagonal to the base of his cock, then lower. Ray could have sworn he heard Len stifle a whimper as his palm, slick with sweat, found his balls. He cupped them, gently at first, then more firmly. Stroking, squeezing, his middle finger exploring backward to run over the man’s perineum.

Growing bolder, he moved his hand back further, finding Snart’s ass. With a playful flick of his tongue over Len’s tip, Ray pushed his middle finger into him. The man moaned once again, louder and deeper than he had before, his nails raking over Ray’s scalp.

Ray upped his pace again, his head bobbing back and forth at speed with a little finger-fucking mixed in. Snart’s moans were getting louder, his gasps deeper, and he was swearing under his breath.

Leonard was biting his lip again and all at once his muscles tensed and spasmed. Hot, white come spilled into Ray’s waiting mouth in bursts. Ray made a sound of appreciation, swallowing instantly and sucking off the thin layer that was covering Snart’s cock where the come had splashed back against the inside of his mouth.

Snart was gasping for breath, mouth open wide in a gape and his eyes shut tightly, his body tensed against the wave of pleasure that has was still dissipating through his limbs.

His eyes opening, he released his grip on Ray’s hair and once again offered him his hands, letting Ray take them and pull himself up to standing. Snart’s mouth found his instantly, his tongue parting his lips to taste his own come inside Ray’s mouth.

After a moment that seemed to draw out for an eternity they broke, Len’s arms around Ray’s waist and Ray’s hands on Len’s elbows.

“You really are more useful than I thought, Raymond,” Len’s grin was toothy and wild, “and much better at that than I was expecting.”

Ray swallowed a little nervously, “yeah, well… I’m glad you liked it.”

Snart raised his eyebrows at this, not deigning to respond to something so, well, _lame_.

“So uh,” Ray continued, clearing his throat a little, “Now that Mick knows and all, where do we, you know, stand with this?”

Snart let out a small laugh, “Where do we stand? Raymond, please. Nothing’s changed. _This_ is just sex. Meaningless sex. Don’t tell me you’ve had a change of heart.”

“No! Of course not. Meaningless sex. Yeah, exactly. That’s all this is,” Ray tried to muster enthusiasm for the statement, playing off the twinge of guilt he felt in his stomach at the lie. He couldn’t help it, Ray just wasn’t a casual sex kind of guy.

Len let his hands wander down to Ray’s ass, both hands cupping his cheeks and squeezing.

“Good boy,” he smirked, before drawing Ray in for another long, deep kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheee so 2 chapters in two days, ish. There is at least one more chapter that I have planned in my head, but there will likely be more as the season wears on.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post S01E05
> 
> Hurt/comfort - in the wake of the events at the Gulag, Snart feels a crippling guilt.  
> Mick steps up to be the voice of reason.

Ray was beaten. He was bloody. His pretty little face was lacerated, his lip split in more than a few places and a dark purple bruise spread over one cheekbone. By the way he moved he probably had at least two cracked ribs – each step bringing on a visible wince.

But he was alive. Raymond was alive, and that, Leonard thought, was a damn miracle.

If it had been up to him, as it so nearly had, Ray would be nothing more than a smudge of ash against a concrete wall. A fresh wave of guilt tore through him, reopening wounds that formed the moment the power had gone in the Gulag and the prisoners set free.

If they’d left Ray there he’d have been caught in the riot. With his injuries as they were, it was unlikely that the kid would have survived another beating, let alone a mob.

_How many times did I nearly kill Ray Palmer?_ Snart thought, his fists clenching against his knees.

If it wasn’t for Mick, Raymond would be dead twice over and Len would be sitting there in this secluded little corner of the Waverider knowing that his actions, and his actions alone, had been to blame.

As it was he was angry, livid at himself, for thinking slipping Ray his suit and trusting him to wake up and get out alone had been a great idea. It was selfish. He’d only been thinking of himself and Mick. Mick had been his partner for so long now that the thought of leaving him behind a second time was inconceivable. Why hadn’t he applied that to Ray?

_If the dumb kid hadn’t gone and got himself imprisoned in the first place none of this would have happened._

Snart sighed. No, that wasn’t true. _If Ray hadn’t, I’d be dead. Ray got himself locked up to save my damned, godforsaken, worthless life._

And what had he done in return? Wanted to leave him unconscious in the cell so as not to arouse suspicion. It was pathetic. Snart doubted that he’d ever be forgiven for it, and as such he was determined not to forgive himself. The only way forward, he was sure, was to be better. Do everything in his power to protect the man, even if it meant sacrificing himself along the way. Hell, he deserved it.

“You know, sitting down here brooding in the dark ain’t gonna to do a damn thing, Len,” Mick’s voice resonated, low and almost soothing, through the room. The man was standing a few feet away, leaning heavily on a generator, LEDs blinking on its surface yet eerily quiet.

Leonard had hid himself away in the depths of the ship, finding first the main generator room somewhere near the engines, then further on a smaller, quieter room that he could only assume was the backup. It was dark, quiet and out of the way, a perfect spot for hiding from the others, _especially_ Raymond. It was also a perfect spot for hiding from himself.

“How’d you find me?”

“Weren’t too hard. I know you don’t like to be around people when you’re,” Mick paused briefly, gesturing with a hand as if to grab the right word out of the air, “ _feeling_ shit.”

Snart grunted in response.

“So I just walked around for a bit until I got to the bits of the ship no one wants to go. It was either here or by the sewage tank, and you ain’t stupid, Len, so I knew you weren’t in there,” Mick screwed up his face at the idea.

“What am I supposed to do, huh? The stupid bastard got himself captured to save me and I damn well nearly got him killed,” Snart pulled his knees up closer to his chest, mimicking an almost foetal position. From where he sat on the floor Mick looked even more looming than usual. Mick had a talent for that; looming.

“Yeah well, in any other situation you’d have made the right call. You slipped him his suit, Len. You trusted him to get himself out, but the poor kid was in such bad shape… I couldn’t leave him. You know that,” Mick made his way towards Snart, picking his way past the generators before thumping down heavily beside him, “we ain’t sentimental types, Len, but we know when there’s a debt to be paid.”

“Yeah, and if it hadn’t been for you he’d be _dead_.”

“Len, you gotta get yourself outta this rut. You can’t live your life like this. It’s pathetic,” Mick was blunt as ever, “And you’re above it. I never seen you act like this before, not even over Lisa. When you wronged her or she did something stupid you’d always man the _fuck_ up and face her, apologise or tell her outright where she was wrong. You ain’t the kinda man to avoid that sorta thing.”

A silence stretched between them, neither man moving to fill it.

At last, Snart sighed and lowered his head, resting his forehead on his knees.

“I can’t face him.”

Mick snorted, giving his friend an amused side glance, “I never knew you cared that much about him, Len.”

“Neither did I,” Len said in a voice filled with resignation. The air suddenly felt heavy around him, too close against his skin. He’d never confessed anything like that to anyone before, not Mick, not even Lisa. The people he cared about were his family, and Mick was practically family anyway. There wasn’t room in his life for anyone else, any _thing_ else beyond a regular fuck. Emotion never played into it. It couldn’t. It was the only way Snart could keep the people he cared about safe: limit their numbers.

_Another lie_ , he corrected himself, _you care about more people than you’d ever care to admit. Pretending you don’t care keeps_ yourself _safe, not them._

“And there I was thinking he was just another one of your boy-toys,” Mick cut through Snart’s inner monologue like a blunt axe, “turns out you got feelings.” He snorted again, shaking his head at the simple thought, “can’t blame you, though. Ray’s not a bad guy. He don’t shut up, sometimes, but he’s nice. _Amicable._ ” Mick put a lot of emphasis on that last word, drawing out each syllable a little longer than he should have, but he seemed pleased with the result, “anyways, he likes you, Len. That much is obvious, even if to you it’s clear as mud. He’ll forgive you. Hell, I don’t even know if he damn well blames you to start with.”

Snart looked up, throwing a sceptical glance at his partner, “so you think I should go talk to him?”

“I think you should march your ass up there and talk to him, yeah,” Mick slapped his thighs with his rough palms for effect, “and none of your usual bullshit.”

“Fine.”

***

A closed door was always supposed to be more intimidating to other people. Snart was _supposed_ to see an invitation in every locked room, a challenge in every ‘passcode required’, a more welcoming gesture with each and every key that could separate him from his goal.

Except this closed door wasn’t even locked. All he had to do was raise his fist and knock, and ‘open sesame’ he would be granted entrance, if the room’s occupant so deigned.

Most doors Snart was faced with, beyond lay rich treasures waiting for his greedy, thieving hands to liberate. There was always an element of risk, some kind of hidden alarm or armed guard or unknown threat protecting the treasure. It was the danger, not just the money, which gave opening these doors their thrill.

Beyond this door was perhaps the greatest treasure of all, but Snart didn’t see an invitation. All he saw was risk, building higher and higher and waiting to topple down on top of him. If he fucked this up, and hell, he might – he had a seriously bad track record when it came to relationships – it was all over before it had even begun.

Snart raised his fist tentatively, the mere action causing his chest to tighten a little. Now _that_ pissed him off: he was _not_ supposed to be _that_ kind of guy.

_Raymond was never supposed to be part of the plan._ But somehow he’d fallen for him, and he’d fallen deeper than he could ever remember falling for anyone.

Len used his anger at himself to drive his fist forward, knocking loudly – feigning confidence.

_There._

He held his breath.

Seconds passed, dragging on for what felt like an eternity, before a faint shuffling behind the door broke the spell. A heave and the door was pulled open, beyond which a battered face peered out.

“ _Raymond_.”

“Leonard…” Ray bit his lip lightly; nervously, “I uh, didn’t think you’d come.”

“And miss the opportunity to bring you lemon tea while you’re all tucked up in your jammies? I don’t think so,” the quip left his mouth before he’d even thought about it, his go-to flirt saturated with his usual drawl.

_Damnit, Len, this is supposed to be a no bullshit interaction,_ he chided himself.

But somehow it seemed to break the ice. A smile was spreading its way across Ray’s cheeks, lighting up his face even as the bruising and scabs set to darken it. Ray stepped back and gestured for Len to follow him, to which the other man readily obliged. Too much time had already been wasted loitering outside and building up the courage to knock, and Snart couldn’t afford to hesitate any longer.

Once the door was firmly shut, Snart began to speak. Words tumbled out of his mouth in a cascade; unorganised and bunched all together but with the same end.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Ray. I was _selfish_ and _angry_ at you for taking such a stupid risk, and I was angry at you for wanting to _save_ me, and I was angry at you for _caring_ about me, and I was _furious_ at myself for realising that, well, that I care about you too, because that meant that I was _weak_. I acted on that anger because I knew I couldn’t deal with it any other way and you got hurt, and it could have been worse. Much worse. I’m sorry,” Snart stopped, looking down at his boots and swallowing, “you deserve better than me. I let you down, you could have been killed, and I’m sorry.”

No bullshit. No flirting. No drawl. The façade he’d built around himself all these years crumbling as if it were nothing more than sand in the wind. Leonard was laid bare. And he was terrified.

Snart braced himself, waiting for the storm. Ray could shout at him, scream at him, tell him that he was an idiot for ever thinking that what they had was more than just the debauched little escapades in the supply closets, to relieve the tension and pass the time. He could tell him he blamed him for everything and that he never, ever wanted to see him again. He was ready to take it on the chin.

But it never came.

Instead Leonard found himself encompassed, strong arms pulling him in to a soft embrace; Ray tucking Len’s chin into the crux of his neck and resting his cheek against his own.

“No, no, no, Len, no,” Ray’s voice was a low, soothing whisper in Len’s ear, his breath warm against the skin over which it misted, “It was a mission and you made a call. A tactical call.” Ray’s grip tightened slightly around Snart, preventing the thief from pulling away.

Instead, Snart snaked his own arms around Ray’s waist, enjoying for a moment the way the other man fit into them. The stood there for a moment, entwined.

“You could have been killed.”

“I knew the risks. We all did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially there was going to be smut in this chapter but it didn't quite fit. This is a promise of at least one more chapter to meet those needs and expand on the new coldatom dynamic before we have episode 6!


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snart hates public displays of affection, but it gets him places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter assumes that there is a whole day in between them getting back to the Waverider after the Gulag and them being shot out of the timestream in episode 5. 
> 
> And now back to your regularly scheduled smut.

_Damnit, Len, what the hell have you done?_

Snart snapped his eyes open, the usual grogginess of waking thrust away instantly.

Last night. Last night he’d talked to Ray; expressed his _feelings_. They’d hugged. It was _sweet_. But that probably meant he’d set himself up: Ray would expect more from him now, like more hugging, or _public displays of affection._ Or worse, Snart thought, _dating._ He was _not_ ready to take that particular plunge.

Even after Gideon had patched Ray up, he’d been in a pretty bad way last night, so their exchange had been gentle and brief. Emotions as well as wounds were raw, so it wasn’t the best situation to initiate anything depraved. Snart had broken their embrace, given the taller man a slow, sensual kiss and told him to get some rest before leaving and heading back to his quarters, his shoulders lighter and his heart practically singing, the tingle of Palmer’s lips still picked out against his own.

Well, that was adrenaline for you. Making you do stupid, regrettable things.

Some eight hours later, that was all feeling like a terrible, drunken mistake, though Snart was entirely – unfortunately – sober at the time. He’d be better off with Palmer _hating_ him than this… _expectation._

Grunting, Leonard sat up and gracefully swung his legs across the bed, planting his feet on the floor. Across the room Mick snored loudly, an arm lolling over the side of his mattress.

Unceremoniously, Snart dropped his boxers and grabbed a neatly folded towel from the stack in his wardrobe, wrapped it around his waist and headed down the corridor to the large communal shower block. It reminded him a little of his time inside, except the floors were always clean and the showers were separated by opaque curtains rather than, well, a cell mate with a hard-on.

Twenty minutes later, Len returned, the door closing loudly behind him and startling Mick into wakefulness. He grunted, rubbing his eyes with one hand and scratching his balls with his other.

“You’re up early, Len,”

“I didn’t have an especially late night, unfortunately,” Snart dropped the towel, already dry. He began laying out the day’s clothes on his bed, unfolding them after careful consideration.

“You and Ray alright?” Mick hadn’t moved, other than to push the covers off himself a little, exposing his thickly muscled chest.

“Raymond and I are _fine_ ,” Snart was pulling on a fresh pair of jeans, “Though I think our _dynamic_ may have changed a little.”

“Whatd’ya mean, Len?”

“We _talked._ I think he may have got the impression that I was a much more sensitive guy than I really am, and I do think he may try to be _public_ with his affection towards me.”

“Huh,” Mick sat up and ran his tongue over his teeth and made a face like he was picking out a scrap of leftover food, which was of course entirely plausible, “well, it’s the least you owe him.”

Snart turned suddenly, shooting his partner a look that would have killed a lesser man, “ _what_?”

Mick swung his own legs over and thumped them heavily on the ground before pulling himself to standing. He yawned, stretching out his hulking great arms above his head, fully nude.

“It’s the least you owe him, Len. Kid went through hell, you could at least _try_ to be nicer to him in public. You know,” he grinned, “ _amicable.”_  

Sighing, resigned to the fact that once again – _and this must be a fluke,_ he thought – Mick was right.

 

***

The dining area of the Waverider was an interesting affair. Something akin to a school canteen, a long worktop at one end of the room held a row of hot steel containers, which in turn were filled with whatever was on the menu for that day. There was a kitchen behind the worktop, but it was immaculate, only ever used if one of the crew wanted to cook for themselves. Gideon didn’t need a kitchen to provide them with food, being able to materialise anything they required and somehow keep the options open and not disgusting. So it wasn’t like a school canteen at all.

On a separate station a large coffee machine bubbled contentedly to itself. This wasn’t made by Gideon, and neither was the coffee inside. That was maintained as a collective by the team, knowing that without it a deep rift would form between them, they’d descend into something akin to a small-scale civil war and they’d all be dead within 48 hours.

Usually Snart would make a beeline for the bacon and eggs, grab a coffee and head to an unoccupied table, not wishing to engage anyone for at least 45 minutes whilst he regained a modicum of humanity. Sometimes Sara would join him and they’d eat together in silence, without eye contact, just the way he liked it.

Today, however, Leonard paused in the doorway, his eyes searching. They settled on the centre table, where Ray was jovially tucking in to his own breakfast and chatting with Jax, who seemed a little more invested in scraping the tomato ketchup out of a glass bottle with a knife than the conversation.

Snart quickly helped himself to his usual portion of bacon and grabbed a tray. Next was the coffee machine. Two mugs, this time. Leonard liked his black and bitter, but he made an educated guess that Ray preferred sugar and cream. Balancing the two cups on his tray with his plate, Snart set his eyes on his goal – the empty seat in front of Ray – and sauntered over.

The seat came with a downside, of course. It was right next to Jax and now also Professor Stein, who seemed to be giving the young man a lecture on how to use physics to extract the ketchup.

Snart came to stand in front of Ray, unable to supress his slight flair for the theatrical. Any other man would have just sat down and acted like nothing weird was happening, but where would the fun be in that? Ray was still deep in conversation with the Jax, seemingly aiding the ketchup based physics lesson. He hadn’t even registered Snart’s approach.

“-and if you just _twist_ the knife a little bit-”

“ _Raymond,”_ Leonard threw everything he had into it, extending each vowel more than he should, accentuating his natural lilt to the point the word seemed to drip off his tongue.

Palmer looked up at once, his face a delightful mix of surprise, joy and then, deliciously, fear. Snart could tell he’d caught him entirely off guard, revelling in the small panic the other man was obviously experiencing. Snart mentally kicked himself – of course Palmer wouldn’t have instigated anything publicly, not yet anyway. They’d barely been seen exchanging friendly words, hugging or no. Well, he’d made the move and there was no backing out of it, so it was now or never…

“This seat taken?” He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head downwards, gesturing to the empty chair.

“Uh,” Ray blinked, twice, “no. Feel free. Leonard… what are you, uh, doing... here?”

For a smart guy Ray was taking an awfully long time to catch on. Snart only smirked, placing the tray on the table and sat, crossing one leg over the other.

“Being _amicable,_ ” he enunciated, _Mick deserved that one_ , “coffee?” He picked up the lighter of the two mugs and offered it to Ray.

Ray eyed the cup for a few seconds before gingerly taking it, “Uh, thanks? I think…”

“Don’t worry, Boy Scout, it isn’t poisoned,” Snart took his own mug and drank, as if to prove the point.

Ray followed suit, a little tentatively at first but then relaxing as soon as the hot liquid hit his lips. Putting the cup down, he beamed - that stupid little grin of his, “It’s great! Two lumps, just how I like it”

Snart eyed him across the table, “Two lumps? I’ll bet…”

He grinned from behind his mug as Ray’s cheeks turned an interesting shade of puce, visible even behind the bruising, which was admittedly much less prominent this morning. Ray spluttered a little.

Beside him, Jax and Stein had stopped their futile ketchup efforts in favour of staring, slightly open mouthed, at Snart. Rather than choosing to pursue the matter, however – likely in part due to Snart having chosen to leave his quarters packing, well, _cold_ ; the gun holstered visibly at his hip – the pair made their excuses and left.

“I have some things to attend to in the lab, so I will leave you gentlemen to it,” the professor smiled cordially and left, his own coffee cup still in hand.

“Uh, yeah, me too. You know, _firestorm_ shit, and stuff…” Jax stood abruptly and made after Professor Stein, “later, fellas.”

Len set his mug down and started on his bacon, carefully cutting it into regular, bite sized rectangles, “Do you think I scared them away?”

“Well,” Palmer paused, contemplating his own bacon, “you are kind of... predatory?”

“ _Really?_ ” Snart raised his eyebrows, making a show of revealing a sliver of teeth, his tongue running over his canines. To Len’s pleasant surprise, Ray’s cheeks darkened further.

***

Bacon left unfinished, they were walking swiftly out of the canteen, Ray first and Snart following closely behind. They walked with purpose, strides long, hurriedly making their way through the Waverider to a familiar door set three quarters of the way along a corridor.

Ray pressed on the handle whilst Snart checked behind them to make sure they didn’t have a tail – all clear.

The supply closet was unchanged; small and dark with the one solitary light illuminating them as the door clicked shut. The two men stood millimetres apart, their breath rapid, the tension palpable; a heavy spring pushed back and waiting to recoil.

Leonard spoke first, his voice rasping a little, as if supressing a primal desire, “How are your ribs?”

Ray pursed his lips for a second before answering, “Better. Bruised, still, but I think whatever Gideon gave me has healed most of the damage.”

“ _Good_.”

Before Ray could get another word across his lips Snart was on him, shoving him hard, backwards into the shelf and pressing himself against him. Ray could feel Len’s hard-on through his jeans, the man’s hips grinding against his own. Len’s mouth was on his neck, his tongue pressing against his jugular as he kissed.

Ray’s head tilted backward and he allowed himself to moan, his hands jutting forward to grasp Snart’s ass and hold on tight. This spurred the man on, fuelling him to grind harder as his drawn out neck kiss turned more aggressive, sucking and biting the same spot of skin whilst he snaked his own arms around Ray’s waist to pull their bodies closer together.

“That’s – ahh – that’s going to leave a mark, I think,” Ray’s gasp was louder than his voice, barely a whisper in the enclosed space.

Snart grinned against the other man’s skin, licking slowly up from the centre of his vicious love bite to just behind the lobe of Ray’s ear, sending a thrill shivering down his spine. Ray whimpered.

“Oh, I’m _counting_ on it,” And then Snart’s mouth found Ray’s, his tongue forcing deep itself deep. Trailing first over his pallet, and the back of his teeth before meeting Ray’s tongue head on. They swirled around each other lazily at first, Snart forcing his way back, trying to push himself as far down Palmer’s throat as he could manage. He knew how much he could take.

As if a spell were suddenly broken, Ray found his courage. He fought back, driving his own tongue back against Snart’s. Len let him, his unstoppable force yielding to the immovable object that was Ray Palmer. Ray’s tongue felt good in his mouth, the way it brushed his tips sending tingles through his skin before exploring inside. Ray was a dynamic kisser, his tongue never pausing for too long, eager to find every inch of Len’s mouth. Without warning, Ray pushed his tongue further, to the back of Snart’s throat, Ray using his leverage against the shelf to push against the other man. Snart lost his footing, and Ray took the gap in his defence to push harder, sending them both careering into the opposite shelf.

Pinning him, Ray kissed Len deeper, grinding his own hips in small, controlled circles against him. Ray felt a rush of pride as Len moaned into their kiss; deep, almost visceral. Snart’s hands found their way underneath Ray’s shirt, pushing up his back to grip his shoulders. Len’s hands were a little rough, even calloused, but the resistance felt divine.

At last their kiss broke, Ray stepping back and reaching over his shoulder to grab his shirt at the nape of his neck and pull it over his head. Panting a little, sweat beads forming on his brow, Len took Ray in. Muscular but not too heavily built, he truly was his own Greek legend, his torso marred only by the purple-green bruises sitting at his lower ribs. Snart could see the bulge of Ray’s erection pressed against his pants and he lowered his hand to stroke over his own, still encased in denim.

Ray moved forward the half-foot to close the gap between them, reaching to Snart’s hips. Len ran his tongue over his lips, red and full from their kiss, as Ray pulled at the buckle of his belt. As the leather gave, Ray moved a hand to grip the cold gun holstered there, ensuring that it didn’t fall to the ground as he slowly tugged it free from Snart’s belt loops.

Setting it on the shelf just to their right, Ray moved next to Len’s fly; undoing the button and pulling the zip oh so slowly down. Len’s hands in turn moved to Ray’s pants, roughly yanking at the overlap of fabric to pull open the button and release the zip, before plunging his hand into the newly made opening and cupping Ray’s hard-on, his middle and ring fingers extending to his balls.

Ray moaned and pressed himself into Len’s hand, rubbing up and down in quick, shallow semi-thrusts.

Snart moved his free hand up to cup Ray’s jaw, his thumb resting on the man’s chin and his index on his temple, his other fingers wrapping around the side of his head. He brought Ray’s head forwards, letting his lips brush gently against Ray’s other cheek before resting once again at his ear.

His tone was guttural, almost pleading, his breath hot against Ray’s ear, “ _Fuck me,_ pretty boy.”

Palmer drew in a sharp breath, pressing his hips harder into the palm of Len’s hand, before stepping back once again. He nodded, slowly, eyes flickering once to the door then back to Snart.

Leonard grinned, pulling his own shirt over his head in such a way that gave Ray a perfect view of his frame, before throwing it to the ground. Reaching into his jean pocket he produced a small sachet of lube that he’d lifted off of Jax not half an hour ago, and Ray’s wallet. From the latter, under a look of horror from Ray himself, he swiftly removed the condom foil from the back zipped compartment. Kicking off his boots he held them out to Ray.

“I didn’t even feel you take it…”

“That _is_ the idea,” Len’s jeans were on the floor too, now, as were Ray’s. They stood facing each other, feeling the heat radiate from each other’s bodies, naked but for their underwear. “Are you going to put those to use or am I going to have to do it for you, Raymond?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sorry,” Ray stared at the condom wrapper in his hand, reluctant to move.

Snart rolled his eyes, snatching the condom from Ray’s hand. “I _really_ do have to do everything myself, don’t I?” He tore it open, taking the rubber in hand, before yanking down Palmer’s boxers. Leonard took the lube sachet in his other and tore at it with his teeth, a little spilling over his finger. As Ray watched, somewhat dumbfounded, Len dabbed a little lube on the inside of the condom before transferring the open packet back to between his teeth. Now with both hands free he used his left to run down Ray’s shaft, pulling his foreskin back and causing a small noise to escape from Ray’s mouth. Snart placed the condom on Ray’s tip before glancing up at Ray.

“Hold.” Was the muffled instruction that came, and Ray obeyed, intuitively pinching the soft latex tip of the condom, allowing Len to roll it down his length. Snart took the lube packet his mouth and handed it to Ray, “You better know what you need to do with this, else I’ll walk out of here right now and take your clothes with me.”

Luckily for him, Ray nodded, “I’m sorry-“

Snart’s finger was on his lips, cutting him off, “No apologies. It’s not sexy.”

Ray made a muffled noise of agreement. Len replaced his finger with his lips, the briefest of kisses but enough to leave Ray yearning for more.

“Then _fuck_ me, already.”

Snart found himself spun around and hitting the shelves at more force than he was expecting. Ray was behind him, pulling his underwear down, pressing his erection against his ass. Len spread his legs, letting the younger man have as much access as he needed, his hands wrapped around the support struts for the shelves in front of him.

There was a cold pressure and Snart felt a finger slide inside of him. Closing his eyes, Len allowed himself to relax, putting his trust entirely in the other man. Another finger, and then another… they twisted and stroked, coating him in lubricant and sent pulses coursing through him. Ray pushed deeper, his middle finger angling sharply and stroking with confidence as Len gasped.

“You never cease to amaze me, Raymond,” Snart’s thin smile went unseen, but was rather quickly replaced by a long, stretched gasp. Ray had removed his fingers and was pushing his lubed up cock slowly into him, taking his time to make sure Len felt every inch of the penetration.

“ _Jeeeeeesus_ ,” Snart’s hands gripped tighter, his head lowering.

“You know, Len,” Ray whispered as he wrapped an arm around Snart’s waist, placing the other just above the other man’s on the strut of the shelf. He withdrew half his length and thrusted forward- “ _Fuck_ -“

Len groaned, loudly.

“-isn’t a dirty-“ he withdrew again and thrusted faster, harder, “-word.”

Len’s moan resonated through the closet.

Ray wasn’t often the most graceful, but Snart soon found that during sex Ray could have passed as a fucking ballerina. Every move he made was calculated; nothing was left to chance. Every iota of pleasure that could be achieved from his actions simply _was_. Ray found Len’s rhythm quickly, every other thrust harder and deeper, every four angled up to brush across his prostate. Bruising and all, Ray didn’t hold back.

Snart felt he’d died in Russia and been sent to whatever heaven there was to be offered to someone like him. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Ray might actually be good at this, at making him moan, making him want to claw at a mattress and bite at sheets that weren’t even there. He imagined Ray pinning him down in his bed instead of up against the harsh metal shelving unit, deep in his ass and fucking him blue while he mewled for more. Letting the man take everything he wanted from him and more.

Ray had changed beat, feeling Len’s muscles contract around him. Thirty straight seconds of Ray fucking him hard, fast and without mercy, hitting his prostate with every thrust; making Len’s cock twitch, pre-come dripping untended to the floor.

Thirty seconds of respite: slow, deep thrusts making the man underneath him whimper, before giving another twenty seconds at full tilt.

Ray wasn’t sure how much he could take, Len’s ass around him the perfect tightness, contracting with every thrust he made. He knew he was building, and it wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t hold it in any more, but he wanted Snart to come first. He wanted to know that he could control him, he wanted Snart to know that he could make him do exactly what he wanted him to.

Ray shifted his hand – noticing the red handprint on Snart’s waist where he’d been holding fast, likely to leave a lasting bruise – to the thief’s cock. It was wet with pre-come, making sliding his hand down its length much easier, his foreskin sliding with him as he pumped.

Len was pretty sure he hadn’t stopped moaning, but if he wasn’t moaning before then he was now. Ray’s hand around him was a perfect fit, his cock sensitive beyond belief, coupled with Ray’s own cock thrusting deep within him, Len could barely keep a handle on himself. He was going to come, and soon.

His moans built with the tension in the pit of his stomach, spreading out down his spine and through his lower back like ink running on paper. Louder and louder, closer and closer, Ray working him, the man’s face now pressed against his shoulder, echoing his every sound with one of his own.

“I’m-” Len started, cut off by a thrust deeper than the rest had been, hitting him square in the sweet spot, “-I’m coming-”

Ray was already over the edge, Snart’s exclamation accelerating a process that had already begun. He cried out, incomprehensible, and he came deep inside Len, the man’s contractions only making his orgasm more intense. He felt Snart spill over into his hand, three waves of come dripping through his fingers.

They were both panting, heaving in breathes as though they were running out of air. Ray pulled out and Len’s knees gave way; he sank to the floor, bracing himself to suck in more oxygen. Ray joined him, half collapsing, leaning his weight against Snart’s side as Len snaked an arm around his shoulder, tucking him into a sweaty, sticky embrace.

“That,” Snart paused, inhaling deeply, and giving Ray a long side-glance “wasn’t bad.”


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of 2046 have left Snart a little shell shocked.   
> Angst aplenty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is much, much longer than I ever intended the chapter to be. 
> 
> (Set after Episode 6, and assumes you have knowledge of the Christmas special of season 2 of the Flash 'Running to Stand Still', but if you don't, don't stress)

Everything had turned to shit - as everything seemed to these days.

Once again Snart found himself looking back on his reasoning for joining up to be one of Rip’s band of legends. Money, power, fame… spreading measured chaos through time. Captain Cold and Heatwave unopposed and living it up like _kings_.

Except something _had_ opposed them: himself. He had gone and jammed a wrench in the gears of their well-oiled machine by getting _attached._

For the first time in his life, Len was surrounded by a group of people he considered friends. People he would fight to protect, people he’d sacrifice himself to keep safe, people – he swallowed – who would do the same for him. Somehow the prospect to defeating Vandal Savage side by side with the others was a heady, intoxicating prospect; more so than any amount of money, any jewel, any job he’d ever worked.

He wanted to make them _proud_. He wanted to prove to himself that he was more than a simple criminal, that his past didn’t define him.

_Damn it, Barry_.

Allen had been right after all. All the people that Snart had hurt, lied to, killed, stolen from, and Barry Allen had still earnestly told him that there was good in him.

_“Sorry, I’m not interested in being a hero,”_ he’d said.

Yet now nothing could be further from the truth.

Mick, on the other hand… He couldn’t blame him. Mick was as blunt as they come, intentions laid out plainly in front of him. Money, violence, sex: everything that was abundant in a life of criminality and corruption. Everything that 2046 had been. Mick just wanted to watch the world burn and be the man standing behind the match.

Close as Snart was to him, he wasn’t likely to change his stance on that lifelong dream of his. He was here for the profit, and that was that. Just because Snart’s motivations had changed didn’t mean that Mick’s had.

Leonard groaned inwardly, pulling his knees up to his chest where he sat on his bunk and glanced guiltily at the other side of the room. Where it had been an interesting array of mechanical parts, flammable liquids, empty beer bottles and dirty underwear, it now stood empty. Nothing but a stripped mattress remained.

After their… _how to put it, severe disagreement?_ Snart thought, Mick had taken it upon himself to sling all his worldly possessions into a single duffle bag and, without so much of a backward glance, leave. Len had stood wordlessly by his bunk, arms folded passively. He knew there was nothing more he could do or say, Mick had made up his mind.

His entire life Len had strived to isolate himself, not get attached, and never ever stoop so low as to rely on others. He looked out for himself, he protected Lisa, and nothing more. To everyone else he’d been _cold_. That way nothing really ever hurt. If he had to kill – and he did, more often than he’d care to admit – it was easy. His hand steady as he pulled the trigger, willing to go to every length to finish a job. Once he went after something he never stopped until he had it, ever. No matter the collateral damage.

But he’d always known that it was all just a front: an elaborate façade constructed to keep himself alive and respected and his sister safe. Behind it all was the little boy who was just another disappointment, hating himself for driving away the people that cared about him.

Mick was one of the first people to break through that barrier. Mick didn’t give a shit. Mick would stand by his side and back him up, fighting with him for their shared profit, so long as there was profit to gain. The problem was he all too often got carried away, and it was up to Len to make sure he didn’t get himself killed, or arrested for that matter. They always had similar ends to meet, and Len was good at getting things done, so Mick respected him, followed his lead. Until now.

Len rested his forehead on his knees.

Mick was his friend, he knew that. Mick had been his friend for a long time, and it had been the two of them against the rest of the world. Then the Flash had turned up in Central City. Barry had shown such a strange compassion towards him that Snart had been thrown off guard, his façade had dropped an inch, and in rushed the _feelings._ He’d had so many chances to kill the kid, but something, somehow, had stopped him.

Could he consider Barry Allen a friend? Not a chance. But he _meant_ something to him. And it just got worse from there.

Each of Rip’s _legends_ had grown on him. Naturally Sara was up there – a badass killing machine in tight white leather. They got on well, understanding something intrinsic about each other on a near-cellular level. The rest of them were simply cute, though charismatic, individuals. The born hero types with a penchant for true justice and a dogged loyalty to each other that Snart found oddly _admirable._

Palmer in particular.

Raymond was a special case.

In the past, Raymond would be the kind of guy Len would have loved to hate. Born into a loving home, able to use his genius to really make a difference in the world, and make millions in the process.

More than once Snart had considered taking a trip to Starling City, home of the giants in business. Queen Consolidated and Merlyn Global had always been delicious targets, and when Palmer Technologies took over it seemed to haemorrhage money at every level. It wouldn’t take much to simply wander along with a bucket and collect the cascade, so to speak. But Starling wasn’t Central City. It wasn’t his home. And it was 600 miles away. Much easier to stay where he was and reap the rewards of culture, of fine art and bloated banks. Corporate wasn’t really his jam, anyway.

But Palmer had struck something in him. Maybe it was his good looks, the way his face seemed to glow whenever he smiled, or maybe it was the way he seemed to see the best in literally everyone, no matter their flaws.

_Or maybe,_ Snart thought with a sly smile, _it’s the way he moans when I’m balls deep inside of him_.

Ray made Len act with more consideration, with more morals and with a far greater compassion than he thought he was capable of. But, of course, Ray had no way of knowing how he made Leonard feel. Snart was never particularly forward about that sort of thing. Len even denied it to himself – the Gulag being a prominent representation of how much he wanted to ignore the fact that he gave more than two shits about his teammate.

Even after their heart to heart last night, Snart told himself that Raymond was just like everyone else he’d ever fucked. Just another body, another name on the list. Attractive, sure, but meaningful? Nah. Not a chance. Nothing and no-one in any time period could break through the icy barricade Snart erected around his heart. Friendship was a stretch but… he could do friendship. Friends with benefits? Even better.

But he’d surprised himself with the cutting envy in his tone when he’d confronted Mick earlier.

_“You and Raymond seemed to get pretty tight back in Russia.”_

It was true. Mick had been the one to give him advice on how to approach Ray after his almighty fuck up. Ray had gone to speak to Mick after their return to the Waverider. Mick had joined Ray at the dinner table that night, his laughter a raucous, leaving Len to take his food and eat in silence, alone.

Sure, he’d been jealous before. When his girlfriend from his late teens had started making eyes at the barman in the nightclub they frequented, Snart had broken the guy’s nose. When he was 25 he discovered his boyfriend of three months was banging Lisa whenever he wasn’t home. Snart had coolly snapped each of the man’s fingers and told him in no uncertain terms that if he ever dared touch his sister again he’d lose his legs. Jealousy wasn’t a _new_ emotion. But Snart had never felt so uncertain as to how to proceed, so conflicted in what exactly he should be jealous of.

Leonard stretched out, breaking his sombre cocoon. To hell with it. Mick was a grown man and he’d made up his mind. Raymond was just doing what he always did and chumming up with anyone and everyone. Snart had made a decision. He had chosen to be part of this team and he’d chosen to stay. He’d chosen to fight Vandal Savage, to fight alongside each and every one of the people on this stupid ship. He knew who he was, he knew what drove him. Fuck anyone who told him he was weak for choosing a side or trying to change.

Snart sighed. He needed to see Raymond.

***

When he opened the door, Ray was dressed in a loose tank top and boxers. His pecks picked out a pleasing line in the fabric, leading Snart’s eyes across his chest before following the line of his abs down to his crotch, which was not humbly outlined either.

“Len, hey! I wasn’t expecting you,”

“Raymond,” Snart’s eyes snapped up to meet Ray’s, a satisfied smirk on his face, “may I come in?”

“Sure,” Ray stepped out of the way, one hand combing through his hair, “I, uh, heard about Mick. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well… we all make our decisions, don’t we?”

“For the record… I think you made the right one,”

The door was closed now; Ray’s quarters were smaller than Len’s. One bunk against one wall and a small desk opposite, strewn with papers with detailed drawings of mechanical components and circuit boards.

Len regarded Ray from where he stood and sighed.

“Morals have never really been my forte, so I wouldn’t know,” Len clasped his hands together and stepped forwards his voice lowering, “but it _felt_ right.”

Looking him quickly up and down, Ray bit his lip, “There’s, uh, something that I should probably tell you, Len.”

Snart took another step forward, showing his teeth a little in a grin, “It’s not an STD, is it? That would be… _unfortunate._ After all, we’ve been so _careful_.” He reached up and gently took the straps of the other man’s tank top, brushing finger and thumb down the edge of the fabric.

“What? No, no… it’s definitely not an- an STD,” Ray had lowered his eyes, wringing his hands.

Silence stretched for a moment, Snart studying his face.

“Well?” Len was becoming impatient, his voice a little harsher than he intended it to be.

At last Ray looked up, guilt-ridden, his eyebrows furrowed, “I asked Kendra out.”

Len blinked, “What?”

“I asked Kendra out.”

Snart blanched. His chest filled with ice. His voice was harsh, biting, a sneer curling at the edge of his lips, “You did _what?_ ”

“I mean, she said _no_ ,” Ray backpedalled, taking a quick step away from Snart, who had dropped his hands from his vest.

Leonard took a moment to compose himself, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth, before snapping them open. Fixed unblinkingly on Ray’s he moved forward fluidly, filling his space. Where anyone else would have radiated anger and heat, Snart brought with him icy winds, eclipsing Ray with an Arctic chill.

Deadpan, Snart continued, “I mean, I can’t say I don’t see the appeal. Strong, beautiful, endowed with the power of Gods… eternally destined to be with someone else. It kind of has a bad teen-fiction feel to it,” he tilted his head with a thin smile, “ _just your type_.”

Ray sighed, his shoulders slumping, “It’s not like that, Len. It’s not that I don’t like _you_. Because I do. _Really_. But,” he forced himself to meet Snart’s eyes again and swallowed, “this is just fun to you, isn’t it? I’m your convenient little plaything. You said it yourself! Its meaningless sex, and I- well, it would be nice to have something, or someone _more_ than that. You understand, right?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Snart ran his tongue over his bottom lip, “never kept anyone around for long enough to find out.” The lie tasted fresh and sweet against his tongue, but not as sweet as shame that filled sweet Raymond’s eyes.

In an ideal world, Len would sit down with him and talk, telling him in detail how exactly he felt; that he knew _exactly_ what Ray meant and that, really, he wanted that person to be him. But Ray had been stupid. Ray had acted on a whim and, knowingly or not, cut Snart in a place that he’d promised himself he’d never let anyone hurt again. Len couldn’t let that lie, even if he’d been the one to convince Raymond that their time together had the sole purpose of getting him off.

Steps, therefore, had to be taken. Scores settled.

“Len, I’m sorry,” it was pleading, Ray doe-eyed and downcast.

“What did I tell you about apologies, Raymond…” it wasn’t so much a question as a statement, cool and level as Snart brought one hand to cup Ray’s cheek. Ray didn’t flinch away from the contact, instead lifting his head to meet Len’s eyes, his perfect, plush mouth forming a small ‘o’.

Eyes glinting with a hint of malice, Snart moved suddenly, crushing their lips together and near-ramming his tongue down the other man’s throat. A surprised start from Ray was quickly muffled, his hands – after a brief moment of flailing – finding purchase on Snart’s ass.

Len’s hands were rough, his movements hasty as he gripped Ray’s arms and hauled him towards his bed. Within his chest his heart beat out a fevered tattoo against his ribs as the frenzied heat of his lust mixed with anger and rose like bile from his stomach. Anger at Mick, anger at Ray, anger that he’d quashed, supressing with layers of ice and apathy so keep his head cool and clear, his decisions unmarred by anything less than logic.

_To hell with it all._

Ray landed heavily on the bed and Len was on him in an instant, straddling his hips and pinning his shoulders. Without looking Len could feel that Ray was hard against him, knowing that his tip would be straining with the boundaries of his waistband. Snart took the hem of Ray’s tank top and pulled it up to his collarbone, lowering his mouth to his chest.

His kisses were coarse, half teeth, as he moved down the other man’s torso. Tilting his head back into the pillows, Ray moaned softly, his cheeks heated as Len reached the band of his boxers and took it lightly between his teeth.

Snart ran the flat of his hand over the tenting of Ray’s erection, trailing his lips back up to his chest. Ray moaned again, a little louder, pushing his own hands underneath Snart’s t-shirt and running his fingertips over the skin of his back. Len was at his neck now, kissing upwards, then at his jaw. Their lips found each other again and they kissed, hot and fast, Snart pressing his hand more firmly where it rested against Ray’s crotch.

“Do you want me?” a whisper, posed millimetres above Ray’s lips.

Pupils dilated, breaths coming quick and deep and heart pounding, Ray arched his back a little and raised his hips so he was grinding into Len’s hand.

“Yes, I want you.”

Sitting up, Snart was pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his own defined chest – scars picked out across his shoulders and upper arms, a line of dark hair snaking down from just beneath his sternum, across his stomach and disappearing under the visible waistband of his underwear. Ray’s hands were on him instantly, running down his sides and hooking into his belt loops.

Snart toed off his boots and socks, Ray summarily unbuttoning his pants before pushing them down, boxers in tow, to his thighs. Len was as hard as they come, his cock vertical and engorged. Palmer took him in hand, jacking him slowly, letting him feel every second of that refined, exquisite friction. Len’s eyes were closed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth; small, satisfactory grunts escaping his mouth.

“You got lube?” Snart’s eyes flicked open and met Ray’s with his trademark stare.

“Uh, yeah, second drawer down,” Ray motioned towards the bedside cabinet with his head, dropping his hand from Len’s cock.

With a little effort Len removed himself from Ray’s lap, standing and stepping out of his pants. Hooking a finger into the drawer, Len opened it and surveyed its contents. A bottle of lube, a strip of condoms and, there, at the back of the drawer, a vibrator: small and understated, but a vibrator none the less. Len’s eyebrows shot up.

“Why _Raymond,_ you didn’t strike me as a man that played with toys,” Snart turned his head to look at Ray, who had flushed a deep crimson, and grinned, “though, now that I think about it, the signs _were_ there. Your Atom suit is practically a glorified action figure.”

Ray cleared his throat a little weakly, “well, you know, the nights are long…”

Snart eyed him, “do yourself a favour and take those off, will you?” he gestured at the other man’s dishevelled tank top, still pushed up his torso, and his tight boxers.

Ray obliged, more than happy to do anything that let him avoid Snart’s piercing gaze. Len, meanwhile, removed a single condom from the strip, tearing neatly across the perforations, and set about putting it on. He grabbed the bottle of lube and shut the drawer, sending the offending sex toy back into hiding, before turning to survey the now naked Ray spread out across his bed.

“Knees up, there’s a good boy,” he instructed, kneeling between the man’s thighs.

Len pressed the pump of the bottle in his hand, squirting the cold, viscous fluid into his palm before dropping it to rub his hands together, coating his fingers. With one hand he took a firm hold of Ray’s shaft and with the other he slowly pushed one finger inside him. Ray’s sharp intake of breath made him pause, waiting for the other man to relax enough to really get going. With his exhale he did, and Len began stroking Ray’s cock, his fingers encircling him and his thumb rubbing over his bell-end with every pump. Simultaneously he worked Ray’s ass, a second finger joining the first smoothly, twisting and curling and opening him up.

Ray moaned under his touch, pliable as ever, giving way to soft whimpers as the ebb and flow of the tide, each thrust of Len’s fingers eliciting something louder; more desperate.

“ _Christ_ , Len, that’s… oh God, oh yeah,” Ray’s back was arching, his fists balling in the sheets, “ _fuck,_ please-”

At once Snart stopped, letting Ray hang there in sexual limbo as he pumped more lube out and slicked his shaft up. Ray made a dissatisfied sound.

“Don’t you worry, Raymond. I can be pretty _nasty_ at times but I’m not about to leave you with blue balls,” Len chuckled under his breath he leant forward, propping himself up above Ray’s chest with his elbows, “you ready for me _, Boy Scout_?”

Ray nodded hungrily, and lowered a hand to grip the base of Len’s cock. Without another word Snart pushed himself into him, letting Ray’s hand be his guide. Ray groaned, loudly, feeling every inch of Snart’s cock filling him, pushing against him as his body tried to resist.

Heat and pressure surrounding him, engulfing him, Len thrust once, twice… slowly and firmly; testing the waters.

Satisfied with Ray’s compliance, Snart took it up a notch. He gripped the edge of the mattress tightly, feeling once again the lust and rage spike within him, fuelling him. Ray gripped his ass, fingernails digging in to the muscled flesh, his strength adding to Len’s as he drove into him. Ray’s moans were frenzied, his body convulsing as Snart fucked him, hard and deep. Snart was relentless, his hips sending a barrage of motion jarring into the younger man.

Back arching, hands no longer able to take the strain of Len’s unyielding thrusts, Ray brought his hips up further and wrapped his legs tightly around the man above him. The new angle caught Snart by surprise, changing the angle of his cock inside Palmer’s ass and constricting his shaft in new and delicious ways. Len’s moans joined Ray’s, pressing his face to the hollow of Ray’s neck.

Amidst the onslaught, Palmer’s hands found Len’s, locking their fingers together in a positive death grip. Snart only gripped tighter, using his new found leverage to drive his thrusts harder and faster, fucking Ray into the bed and making him whimper and mewl. He felt Ray’s cock twitching between their bodies and angled himself up to hit where he knew his prostate lay.

Snart grinned against his skin as Ray cried out, his muscles spasming. _Jackpot._

“ _Fuck_ Len,” it was long, drawn out and filled with a deep, primal desire.

Malice blazed in Snart’s mind, his grin widening as he angled off the other man’s G-spot. Ray grunted, confused.

“If you want it, Raymond, you have to _beg_ me for it,” Snart ran his tongue up Palmer’s jugular, his voice a low purr. Ray groaned.

“Please, Len, _please_ , let me have it,” his voice was quiet, punctuated with gasping breaths, his chest rising and falling in shallow surges.

Len thrust into him hard, making Ray moan loudly, “you’ll have to do better than that, Raymond.”

“ _Please_ , Len, I need-” Ray was cut off by another deep thrust.

“ _Not_ good enough,” Len’s lips were hovering just over Ray’s ear now, “…tell me who I am.”

“You’re – ah – you’re Leonard Snart,”

Len made a sound akin to a growl, thrusting deep and hard again.

Ray continued, feverishly, “you’re _Captain Cold_.”

“Good boy,” Snart hummed appreciatively, rewarding Ray with a series of hits to his prostate, making him cry out in tempered ecstasy. “What do you want from me, Raymond?”

“I – hnng – I want you, I want you to give it to me. I want _you_ ,” Ray’s eyes had been screwed tightly shut but he opened them to meet Snart’s, “to fuck me. I want you _control_ me. I want you to give me everything you have and – ahhh – and make me come. Please, _Cold_ , fuck me. _”_

Snart’s mouth broke into a wide grin and he buckled down, fucking Ray harder and faster than he had ever before, each thrust hitting his prostate and making the man convulse. Beneath him, Snart could feel Ray losing it. He was whimpering now, sweat beading on his forehead, his chest already slick, and his face contorting.

“ _Cold_ I’m going to- _fuck,_ Len I can’t-” and he was coming, hard. Ray’s body shuddered as he released his load between them both, coating his stomach and Len’s.

The dirty talk had gotten Snart pretty close himself, but Ray’s body contracting around him, every inch of his cock pressed against him and his body pulled against Ray’s tipped him from where he teetered on the edge of orgasm.

“Coming,” he grunted out, giving Palmer only the slightest warning before he, too, climaxed – come surging from him in waves, cock throbbing rhythmically.

A second passed and Snart’s arms gave way, letting him collapse against Ray’s chest. The two men lay, breathing heavily, entwined in each other’s arms. At last Len moved to grip the base of his cock, holding the condom in place as he withdrew, before rolling to one side, letting the cool air inside the room at their chests.

All the anger had, for the moment, melted away, leaving him feeling as though he were floating beside his lover, his limbs weightless and his heart singing.

Ray laughed, short yet sweet, wiping a hand over his brow, “wow. Just, wow, Len.”

Snart turned his head and grinned, mustering the energy to lift a hand and splay his fingers over Raymond’s chest, “I aim to please, as always.”

Ray laughed again, taking Snart’s hand where it lay, “whew, well you definitely did. Please, that is. Not aim to. God, I need to just stop-”he was cut off by the gentle pressure of Len’s lips against his.

Not a forceful kiss full of ire but soft, reserved, almost delicate.

“I had no idea your codename was such a turn-on for you, though, _Cold_ ” Ray was grinning against Snart’s lips.

“At least I don’t talk about myself in the third person, _Atom_.”

“Hey! I don’t do that… not _regularly_ , anyway” Ray was still smiling playfully, and Len couldn’t help but mirror him.

With a sigh, he shifted again, glancing towards the door, “I should probably get going, Raymond. Else people might start to talk...” Len left it there, hanging between them, unwilling to move.

Ray’s hand gripped his firmly.

“No, Len. Please. Stay the night.”


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of the week between 'Star City 2046' and 'Marooned'   
> Setting up for the events of Marooned, with extremely jealous Len.   
> A week trapped in a spaceship isn't conducive to happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This fic could probably be seen as the Coldatom Companion to the actual canon)

“No can do, Raymond,” Snart gripped Ray’s hand in return for a brief moment before moving off the bed.

Ray sighed, running a hand through his sweat soaked hair and stretching out, “come on Len, just an hour or two.”

Leonard had dealt with the used condom and was taking his time rubbing himself down with a towel, wiping Ray’s come off of his abdomen. Tossing the towel to Ray he turned and snorted, raising an eyebrow, “what? You wanna spoon?”

Ray busied himself cleaning himself up, “I wouldn’t be _adverse_ to it.”

Len made his way back over to the bed, steepling his fingers at the bridge of his nose before checking the time on the small digital dial at the bedside.

“Fine. One hour. Move over, Boy Scout,” Snart slid back into bed next to Ray, pulling the rumpled covers up over them.

Ray had dutifully shifted over, turning to one side and facing the metallic wall of his quarters. He couldn’t help but gasp quietly as he felt Snart’s arm wrap around his torso, the heat of the other man’s body suddenly pressed against his back. He could feel the muscular lines of Leonard’s chest against his shoulder blades and his crotch pushed against his ass. Snart’s breath against the back of his neck spread a pool of warmth across his skin as he felt their fingers interlace. All at once Ray relaxed, feeling – despite knowing full well he was enveloped in the arms of a killer and a thief – _safe._

***

Twenty minutes was all it took. Palmer was out like a light, Snart feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest against him. There it was again, that warm fuzzy feeling at the pit of his stomach, informing him rather bluntly that he’d gone and fallen for the man.

_Damn it_.

No matter how he changed his plans, moulded them to fit with his new agenda, Ray Palmer still managed to get right up inside them and chew on the wires.

Forty more minutes ticked by, Ray turning in his sleep to nestle against Len’s chest, his arm draping over his waist. Len held him, cradled him almost; one arm firmly around Ray’s shoulders and the other clasping the forearm that lay over him. For forty minutes, all was content. Leonard let himself relax, let himself enjoy the moment, knowing that too soon it would pass.

The hour came and went, and Len gently prised himself free of Ray’s embrace. He dressed quickly, silently, before slipping out of the door into the darkness of the Waverider.

***

 

As it turned out, the longer you spent in a cramped metal box travelling aimlessly through the time stream the more easily riled your teammates became. The first two days went by without a hitch; staying out of Mick’s way was Snart’s only real prerogative. He’d known Mick for most of his life, since the man had saved his ass in juvie when he was fourteen years old, so he knew exactly when it was best to stay the hell away from him and let him cool off.

Otherwise, the crew worked well together. They gelled, so to speak. Kendra had proven herself a dab hand at welding, so spent time with Mick and Jax (or, interchangeably, Ray) in the workshop, fixing things up.

Professor Stein could be found whiling away the time in the laboratory, going over papers and equations, Ray occasionally joining him before being unceremoniously thrown out when his blabbering got on the good Professor’s nerves.

Sara mostly trained. Whoever was up for sparring, she sparred with them, and won. Mick hitting the mats with a thump and a groan, Kendra’s warrior cry faltering as the air was knocked out of her, Rip’s curses as he stalked back through the ship, an icepack pressed against one eye, all tracing back to Sara Lance and her deadly skill.

The evenings were a little more interesting. Poker was the main game, and with little to bet and nothing to lose, it quickly degenerated into _strip_ poker. Snart found himself around a table with Jax, Sara, Kendra and Ray, holding a full house with his parka zipped up to his chin. He lounged comfortably, feet up on another chair, poker-face steady and cool. The others were in varyingly obscene states of dress. Jax only had his boxers and one sock left, a grimace set on his face as he looked at his undoubtedly poor hand. Sara was relatively clothed, undervest showing but still clad in jeans and boots. Kendra was showing a bit more skin; no shoes or socks and down to her bra on the top half. Sitting adjacent to Jax, she seemed oddly comfortable in her attire, though Jax continued to stare fixedly at his hand. Raymond wasn’t doing quite as badly as Jax, but he wasn’t doing well either. Shirtless, he ran his tongue over his teeth and threw down his cards.

“Well, there go my pants,” Ray was frowning a little, but dutifully stood and unzipped his jeans, pushing them down and stepping out of them.

Snart couldn’t help it – he found his eyes of their own accord tracing lines down Raymond’s body, picking out the areas that he knew the man liked to be touched most, before settling unashamedly on his package, which was neatly outlined by the seam of his boxers and was certainly not a humble display.

“Um, guys... do you, uh, mind?” Ray cleared his throat awkwardly and Snart’s eyes snapped up to his face, which was reddening.

Glancing around the table he noticed that he had not been the only one staring. Sara and Kendra were still transfixed, Sara eyeing him appreciatively and Kendra’s eyes wide and mouth a little agape. Jax was maintaining solid eye contact with his hand, as if examining each and every little detail the cards had to offer.

“Guys!” Ray repeated, sitting quickly covering himself with his hands.

Sara turned to the table and grinned, whilst Kendra dropped her eyes to her lap, embarrassed. Snart purposefully did not pull his eyes away from Ray’s body, taking in the angles of his pectorals, his clavicle and finally his jaw. At last he caught Ray’s gaze, smirking as the other man tried desperately to convey a look of ‘ _not now, please God not now’_.

“Well, Raymond, it isn’t like you’re exactly an eyesore over there,” Snart’s grin widened as Ray’s jaw set, indignant, “you practically brighten the place up, what with all the _tasteful_ brushed steel.”

“Yeah well, if you’d all be so kind as to stop looking at me like a pack of starving wolves that would be just _great.”_

Kendra and Sara met each other’s eyes across the table. The moment dragged.

“You know what I think?” Sara broke the awkwardness, thumping her fists down on the table and leaning forward, “we need some booze.”

***

Sara, of course, had won. Snart had lost his parka and shirt, coming in a close second, but everyone else was practically naked, and more than a little tipsy on the whisky they’d stolen from Rip’s cabinet. As it turned out, Raymond was not a man who could hold much liquor, and it was up to a determined Leonard with a little help from Sara to drag him back to his bunk.

“You guys are _so_ nice,” Ray slurred, “even _you_ Len. Can I call you Len? You don’t usually complain but we don’t usually have _company_ ,” he gestured to Sara with his head, “when I call you things like Len. Or… or… _Captain Cold_. I know you like it when I-”

“C’mon big guy, not much further to go,” Sara encouraged Ray forwards, “we don’t need you divulging yours and Len’s sex life to the whole ship.”

Snart grunted an acknowledgment, hauling Ray along a little further, “How long have you known about that?”

“Oh, only since it started. But the rest of the crew haven’t caught on yet – they’re a little slower on the uptake than I am,” Sara grinned at him knowingly.

At last they reached their destination; Raymond’s humble little bunk.

“I can take it from here, _thank you_ Sara,” Snart hefted Ray’s weight solely onto himself and set about getting the man through the door that lay before them.

“Alright, but don’t you take advantage of that intoxicated man, will you Len?”

Snart laughed, a real, genuine laugh, aided only slightly by the whisky, “Of course not. _Thief’s honour_.”

Pausing only to pat Ray on the cheek, Sara sashayed back down the corridor, throwing a glace back at the two men.

“I like Sara. I like Sara a lot, you know? She’s _really_ scary, but I like her. I think you like her too. You’re always talking. It’s _nice_ ,” Ray seemed to be having difficulty opening the door to his bunk, so Len reached past him to get the catch.

“Well, you’re not wrong. I do like Sara. She’s a good friend. She _gets_ me, Raymond. Not many people do.”

“Mick does,” drunk Ray exclaimed, entirely missing the touchiness of that particular issue, even as Snart sucked in air through his teeth.

“Yeah, well, Mick doesn’t seem to get me anymore. Come on. _In_ , Raymond,” Len was pushing Ray through the open door, flicking on the light and guiding Ray to his bed.

Before they’d left he and Sara had hastily thrown Ray’s clothes back on him, making him decent enough to parade through the Waverider in case they were stumbled upon by an unsuspecting Stein or Rip. “Alright let’s get those off of you.”

His voice was quiet and gentle, his hands were firm but kind, as he slowly peeled Ray out of his clothes. Snart was transported back in time; he was in his twenties and his sister was in her late teens, coming home late at night to their shared apartment wasted in every sense of the word. If Len hadn’t been out with her, staying sober to keep her safe, he’d always wait up for her at home. He took care of her, encouraged her to drink a pint of water before tucking her into bed with a bucket on the floor and a strip of painkillers on the bedside for the morning.

Ray, admittedly, was much more compliant than Lisa had ever been. He held his arms up to let Len pull his shirt over his head, and he even helped when it came to taking off his pants. The only problem was that Ray insisted on trying to kiss the other man whenever his face, arms or hands came close to his head, which made Len’s work a little more difficult, but it did make him smile.

Snart pulled over the trashcan and picked up a bottle of water that sat on Ray’s desk, opening it and giving it to the other man who seemed occupied with fiddling with the covers.

“Drink this, Raymond, it’ll make you feel a little better.”

Ray gulped the contents, too fast, and belched, making an amused face, “Pardon”

“Now, Raymond, if you’re going to puke try and aim for this,” Snart gestured at the bin, “but for now its _sleep time_ , you got that?”

“Uhu,” Ray seemed to look satisfied, then narrowed his eyes at Snart, “ _unless_ you want me to give you a blowjob. Because I’d be down for that. Really.”

“Not a chance, Boy Scout. Maybe tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it,” he patted Ray’s shoulder, guiding him to laying down, then pulled the duvet up and over him, “but for now it’s time to sleep.”

“Okay, Len, tomorrow,” Ray had already closed his eyes, and kept them closed even as Len bent down to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

Snart flicked the light off, looking back at the prone form of Raymond, all tucked up in his bed, with a small smile before turning to leave.

“Len, can I ask you something,” Ray’s voice was a whisper.

“Sure, anything,”

“Was Kendra looking at my dick?”

“Definitely.” And he left.

***

The days rolled on, and still nothing on the whereabouts of Vandal Savage came to light. Things started to become tenser, arguments breaking out over increasingly smaller issues.

“Doctor Palmer, you cannot simply _take_ things from the laboratory! I need those papers to complete my research on quantum fields and their effects in the time stream!”

“ _Professor_ Stein, you were having lunch and I wanted to read them! I brought them back, didn’t I?”

And so it went. Everywhere he turned, Snart found himself confronted with some other problem between the crew. Rip had forbidden all access to his office after finding out his 1875 vintage bourbon had been filched for their poker game. Mick brought a storm cloud with him wherever he went, daring anyone to cross him with eyes determining the flammability of distinct items of clothing. Snart himself felt like he’d read every magazine Gideon had to offer, sprawled out in the control room and itching for something to do. There were only so many times you could re-take personality quizzes from a _Seventeen_ magazine and be told he should go to prom in a flowing dress or wear Angel perfume.

The only thing that was worse than the sheer boredom of it all was having to watch the horror show that was whatever was going on with Kendra and Ray. Since the poker game, Kendra had been more inclined to sit with Ray in the mess hall or drag him off to the workshop to show him her welding techniques. All in the name of friendly fun, of course, but Len couldn’t help but feel a stab of jealously. It was something in the way they talked to each other, the way they laughed at each other’s bad jokes and pop culture references that set Snart’s teeth on edge. Not that he could do anything about it, even if he wanted to. It wasn’t as if he and Raymond had anything _defined_ or tangible past their exploits in the bedroom.

But that was Ray. Bubbly and receptive to any kind of friendship to the point of earnest flirtation, Raymond had already expressed interest in Kendra, and despite being turned down and despite the long nights he and Len spent together, something of that interest still remained. And something in the way the hawk goddess looked back at him and animatedly discussed the finer plot points of Star Trek: The Next Generation told Snart that perhaps she regretted turning him down. Ray must be able to see it. He couldn’t be _that_ naïve, could he?

Snart’s stomach churned at the thought.

***

The training room quickly became Leonard’s friend. It was out of the way, so was a perfect spot to avoid the grotesqueness of any and all of Ray and Kendra’s interactions.

The previous night he’d found himself on his knees in his quarters, Raymond perched on the edge of his bunk, head thrown back and whimpering as Snart worked him with his mouth. Giving head had turned into sex, Ray face down and ass up in Len’s bed as Snart tore up his insides. When they were laying, sweaty and breathing hard side by side, Snart had decided to push the Kendra issue a little further.

“You like her, don’t you?”

“She’s nice, Len. Of course I like her. But I like _you_ too. I _like_ like you, I mean.”

“What is this, third grade?”

“Oh come on!”

“ _Whatever_.”

It was best, Len thought, to just stay out of their way. Avoid the mess altogether. Work out his pent up frustration on the punch-bag hanging from the ceiling or on whoever was around to spar. Unfortunately for him, Sara was usually the one that was about.

When Len sparred with her he found himself pinned more often than not, against the mat or the wall. This time he’d scraped a victory in the first round, but minutes into the second he was down, a wooden rondel dagger pressed against his liver.

“I’m much better with guns, you know,” he drawled, yielding the match with a sigh.

“Well, a gun wouldn’t stop me piercing your lung through your diaphragm if this were any sharper,” Sara’s breath came heavily but she grinned, jamming the training knife a little harder into Snart’s side.

“I’ll just add _that_ bruise to the rest of them, then, shall I?”

“If you tell me what’s going on with you and Ray I won’t give you any more.”

Snart blinked, taken aback by Sara’s bluntness.

“There’s _nothing_ going on between myself and Raymond. We have sex. That’s it.”

“You sure about that, Len?” Sara pressed the knife harder against Snart’s skin.

“If you think you can torture my relationship problems out of me, you have another thing coming. You forget, I have a _sister_. And let me tell you that I can resist all kinds of bodily harm and mental torment when it comes to divulging the details of my personal affairs.”

Sara considered for a moment then released the pressure, letting Snart up.

“Well, I have a sister too, and I know much more effective ways than torture for getting information out of people. So you might as well spill it, Len.”

“Not a chance.”

“He’s got a crush on Kendra, hasn’t he?”

“See, you didn’t even have to get me to say it.”

“Thank you for confirming my suspicions, Len.”

“What gave it away?” Snart was leaning against the wall of the training room now, arms folded and one knee raised, foot planted against the wall.

“Well, it’s not exactly subtle. Usually you spend all your time up on deck, pretending to ignore the poor man when you’re really hanging off of his every word. Since he and Kendra have been spending more time together, you’ve been spending less time mooning over him in the control room and more time down here getting your ass kicked. Someone,” Sara moved forward and jabbed Len in the arm with the hilt of the dagger, “is a little _jealous_.”

Metal sliding against metal cut through the room, making Len and Sara look around sharply. Ray was standing in the doorway a little nervously, wearing a black vest and grey sweatpants that left precious little to the imagination.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” Ray’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Not at all,” Sara swung around and stalked towards him, throwing a grin back at Snart, “in fact, I was just leaving. Have fun, boys.”

The door slid shut, trapping the two men together. Ray made a move forward, faltering slightly as Snart mirrored him, moving away from the wall and coming to face him across the centre of the room. His eyes were locked on Ray’s, unwavering and intent.

“You want to spar, Raymond?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m not very good. Especially without the suit. But I need to learn, you know. Sara said it would be a good idea for me to come down here at some point…”

“ _Sara_ said?”

“Yeah. She said you might be here, too, and that it would be good for us to spar together. I don’t know why-”

They were circling each other now, not yet sinking into stance or holding guards.

“Sara thinks we have a few issues to work out. _Sara_ thinks it would be beneficial for me to put you on your ass, obviously,” Snart pulled his fists up into a loose guard.

“Issues? What are you talking about, Len?”

“Don’t be _coy_ , Raymond. I think we both know what the problem is.”

“Wait- _Kendra?_ Len, we’re just friends. I thought I already told you-”

“Guard up!”

“I _already told you_ ,” Ray brought his guard up as instructed, dropping into stance, “we’re just _friends_. We just like a lot of the same stuff, Len. I’m sorry that I can’t spend hours talking to you about the keener aspects of bank robbery or jewel heists!”

Snart made the first move, a predictable stomach shot that Ray blocked easily. His blows rained down mechanically, telegraphed to ease Ray into the fight. He blocked them all, managing to squeeze his own shots into the openings that Len left, though these were simply swatted away.

“You really don’t know how she’s been looking at you, do you?” Len grimaced, taking the fight up to the next level. He no longer telegraphed and sped up his shots, changing up his formations and forcing Ray to retreat in order to avoid any of them landing.

“Are you really that jealous, Len? Just because I’ve been spending time with her?” Palmer fought back, regaining momentum between one of Snart’s upper cuts and the next, letting him put the other man on the defensive. Hi fist collided with Snart’s jaw, driving him back. Len kept his guard high as Ray pummelled him, blow after blow landing.

But Ray was sloppy, his technique not finely tuned, and he gave Len exactly what he wanted. Snart took the opening, a gut shot landing heavily, then a shot to the ribs. He was in close, too close for Ray to block him, and drove him back with successive blows. He feigned left, taking the right as Ray moved to protect himself, forcing Ray further and further until he was caught between the wall and Len’s fists.

Len pinned him, hands on Ray’s shoulders, against the cold steel.

Ray won round two by the skin of his teeth, hooking his leg behind Snart’s and tipping him onto the mat with a thump. Straddling his waist he secured the pin, trying to ignore the glint in Snart’s eyes when their crotches inadvertently yet unavoidably ground together.

“You can’t keep making me out to be the bad guy here, Len. Nothing is stopping you from spending time with me outside of the bedroom, you know?”

Snart only grunted, catching his fingers on the hem of Ray’s vest, “best of three?”

Round three was less hand to hand and more free form wrestling. Their bodies colliding in all ways possible, hands grasping limbs and yanking, pulling or lifting. Ray, as it turned out, hadn’t been awful at judo after school. Len, on the other hand, had been in more bar fights than he could remember, and had a much greater breadth of moves than 9th grade martial arts. But they were, more or less, evenly matched.

Ray had Len in a lock, Len had Ray half pinned to the mat. One move either way would yield the match to the other. Chests heaving, neither willing to budge, they held fast.

It was Snart’s voice that broke through their impasse, “Shall we call this a draw, Raymond?”

“Yeah… Yeah that sounds like a good plan,” Ray sighed, shifting his weight and letting Len out of the lock. Ray stood first, holding a hand to the other man and hauling him up. He didn’t let go.

Snart’s eyes flicked over Ray’s body, taking in the slight tenting of the other man’s pants, before pulling him into an embrace. Their kiss was hot, breathless yet frenzied in the aftermath of the match. Ray’s hands were all over Len’s back, Len’s placing firmly on Ray’s ass.

Down the corridor, up the stairs, Len’s room was closest. Clothes were strewn across the floor, mouths meeting skin, hands gripping whatever they could catch hold of. Snart found himself once again pinned, this time to his mattress, with Ray holding him down. Ray moved like an athlete, graceful and strong, every muscle moved with purpose and poise.

Len saw golden light and felt the harmonies of the heavens coursing through him as Ray took him, holding his hands tight, kisses playing on the soft flesh of his neck. Snart let everything melt away, all the jealousy, all the anger, and gave himself over to the ebb and flow of Raymond Palmer, a deity of great beauty and power.

And he _was_ beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Len found his voice caught in his throat, his head tilting back as he let himself be conquered by such a being. Tingles shot through his spine, goosebumps prickling over his forearms as Ray moaned his name into his skin.

The pace changed and Ray was a force of nature, good and just in the same way a hurricane is. Len could only let himself be swept away on the winds, clinging on for dear life in the hope that he would survive.

He couldn’t hold on. He was overwhelmed. The tide was rising higher and higher, the winds growing faster and faster and he knew his body could not hold out. A voice in his ear told him that it was okay to let go, to give himself over, ride the waves of pleasure surging through him as Ray thrust deep and hard.

Len came, then, crying out as a sinner to his God begging for salvation. And he received his deliverance, Raymond gripping him tight and elevating him to the astral planes of existence as he, too, gave way to the building pleasure within him.

Len’s hand found Ray’s jaw, cupping it and running his thumb slowly and gently over his cheek to his lips. In his mind’s eye, Ray still radiated ethereal light, beautiful beyond compare. Ray kissed him, where his mouth was left open in sweet joy.

When Ray withdrew, the light withdrew with him, casting Snart back into his own shadow.

“I’m sorry, Len, I have to go,” Ray’s eyes were cast low, “I’m meeting Kendra for lunch and I promised I’d show her how the Atom suit worked after… is that alright?”

Snart swallowed, still reeling, “that’s fine, Raymond.”

And he was gone.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between episodes 7 and 8 (Marooned and Night of the Hawk), Extremely Jealous Snart once again rears his head.

_“You think you’re some kind of hero. But deep down you’re still the same punk kid I saved in juvie. You don’t have the guts. You want to kill me, kill me. Only one of us is walking out of here alive.”_

_“You’re right.”_

Snart fired. Absolute zero: -459.67 degrees Fahrenheit, -273.15 degrees Celsius, 0 degrees Kelvin. The theoretical temperature which atoms stop moving entirely, the state at which enthalpy and entropy reaches its minimum value. That was what the cold gun, technically speaking, was supposed to achieve, according to Cisco Ramone. That was what he’d fired at so many people since getting the gun, killing most of them instantly as their tissues became necrotic, and their brains unable to receive a blood supply, their muscles unable to move. That was what he’d just fired at point blank range at the man he’d spent that last twenty-five years working side by side with.

Mick howled.

“Your boots should keep you insulated, prevent any major tissue damage at the very least. It shouldn’t take you long to break out of that, with a little effort, but by the time you do we’ll be long gone.” Snart walked towards Rory, cold gun slung casually over his shoulder in a display of cool indifference. At the last second he’d changed his aim, angled downwards to freeze Mick’s feet to the ground below him instead of his head from his shoulders.

Mick was right. He didn’t have the guts. To the very last Len was loyal to the people who mattered most. He couldn’t kill Mick, even if he’d betrayed his friends. Mick was family, and no matter how many people Snart had iced in his lifetime, Mick couldn’t be a name on that list.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Mick roared, struggling against the ice encasing his feet. “After everything I’ve done for you! You’re just going to walk away, huh?!”

Snart didn’t move, instead fixing his eyes on the other man’s, meeting the anger burning deep within them with an icy glare. “That is _exactly_ what I’m going to do Mick. You’re a liability. You’re _dangerous.”_

Mick lowered his voice, snarling like a cornered wolf caught in a bear trap. “You take me out here like an old dog that needs to be put out of its damn misery but you can’t even pull the fucking trigger. You could make it easy for me, you know, just put your gun right here,” he brought his hand up to the back of his head, “and get me to look off into the distance and think about burning something down while you blow my brains out.” 

“If you want to grow alfalfa and keep rabbits while you’re out here, Mick, I’m not stopping you.”

Mick snorted, shaking his head. “Come on Snart, just _do it_ ,” he brought his hand around his head, pressing his index finger into the centre of his forehead. “Right _here_. Look into my eyes like a man and _kill me_ ,” he stared unblinkingly at the other man, “DO IT!”

Len sighed, dropping his eyes to the ground. “I’m _leaving_ , Mick. Good luck.” Snart turned and, without looking back, set off at a steady pace through the trees.

Behind him, Mick shouted and screamed, cursing and cussing and spitting, his own contained forest fire. “This isn’t over! I swear to God I will find you, Snart! THIS ISN’T OVER!”

 

***

The Waverider was quiet when he returned, everyone seeming to have retired to their quarters with the prime directive of pretending that what had just gone down simply _hadn’t._ Once Len was aboard Gideon took off, making the jump into the time stream smoothly. Snart barely felt it, the turbulence of the jump overcome by the thick fog imbuing his skull. He was walking on air, on storm clouds spewing hail into the void below him. Forks of lightening crackled under his feet, pathetic fallacy preceding him, foreshadowing his approach.

He had done what needed to be done, he knew, and he was the only one capable of doing it. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. He’d left his best friend stranded in the middle of nowhere. Left him for dead, or close enough to it.

_Not actually dead, though_ , he reminded himself, _I didn’t kill the bastard._

_But everyone will think you did_.

And it would be best to keep it that way. In a few hours, once the ice had thawed a little, Mick would be able to break himself free. Free to do whatever he wanted with his life, safe and sound away from the crew. Mick didn’t forgive easily, so there was always the possibility of that little not-as-dead-as-we-thought issue coming round and biting them all in the ass, but it was worth it. Mick was worth it. There was fresh water nearby and enough wood for shelter, as long as he didn’t start a forest fire he’d survive. He’d find civilisation, eventually.

The Waverider suddenly felt too small, the air choking him as the walls closed in around him, leaving him nothing but the thoughts of Mick stranded and alone. The number of times Mick had gotten out of prison with nowhere to go, the number of times Snart had picked him and given him the couch, and a place on his crew for their next job to restart his cashflow. He’d left Mick once before, when a job they’d been doing went south. He’d lost control, fucked up royally and started a fire that could not be contained. Snart had to get out, but Mick wouldn’t come, so transfixed by the flames. Snart left him, and he’d gotten burnt, arrested too. After that, Len had sworn to himself he’d never leave the man behind again. But here he was, the old liar back in business, turning on his word.

Snart pressed his palms against his scalp. He needed to clear his head. He needed a distraction.

At once, the visions of Mick roaring at him were replaced by those of another kind; of skin, heat and movement. Len knew what he needed. He needed the sound of blood rushing, of whispered curses mixed with keening moans to fill his ears; he needed the taste of sweat and spit and semen to coat his lips; he needed skin under his fingertips and pressure surrounding him, a heady cocktail of pleasure engulfing him, overloading his senses to the point of rapture.

Closing his eyes, Len sucked in a breath, feeling his heart quicken and a tingle spread from his sacrum. Desire burned in him, eating through his anger and pushing his guilt aside with the ease of the rushing tide. He could deal with that tomorrow. Tonight, however, he needed something else.

Len came to a halt by a flashing panel adjacent to an internal door and fingered over the intercom button lightly.

“Gideon,” he paused, running his tongue over his teeth, “where can I find _Raymond_?”

“Doctor Palmer is on the bridge, Mister Snart.”

“ _Thank you_ , Gideon.” A small smile playing on his lips, Snart lifted his finger from the panel and set off at a stride through the ship.

The bridge was as dark as the rest of the Waverider, only the flashes from the central control unit and the undulating colour of the time stream lending any real light to the room.

Ray was leaning, hands in pockets, against the hull section next to the observation window, staring out listlessly into the time stream. Lost in thought. He struck an attractive figure, silhouetted against the thick Perspex, his tight pants hugging his ass and his shirt revealing the bulge of his biceps.

The thud of Snart’s boots pulled him out of his contemplation and he turned, regarding the man quickly closing the gap between them with some small distress.

“Is it done?” Ray kept his voice even but his eyes betrayed his concern, eyebrows furrowed.

“ _Yeah,_ it’s done,” Snart slowed his pace, taking the last few steps towards Ray with evident care and calculated precision. He made no move to hide the way he drew his gaze hungrily over Ray’s body before coming to stand before him, no more than an inch between them.

“I’m sorry, Len,” Ray’s voice was low, sincere, as he reached out to grip Snart’s shoulder in shared solidarity of their lost friend.

“Save it,” harsh, brusque, with thinly veiled revulsion, all of Leonard Snart’s excellent people skills rolled into two syllables, “I don’t need your sympathy, Raymond.”

Ray’s hand gripped a little tighter, defiantly – Len was going to get his sympathy whether he liked it or not.

“Then what do you need?” Big, brown puppy dog eyes gazed earnestly at the man before him, open and willing, conveying deepest sincerity and encouraging him to profess his deepest feelings. Ray was offering himself as an anchor, a rock for Snart to tie himself to in the storm. Or at least, he would have been had Leonard not shoved Ray back against the hull of the ship.

Snart hooked his fingers through Ray’s belt loops and crushed their bodies together, his lips finding purchase on Ray’s throat as he ground his hips against him. Ray made a noise somewhere between a startled yelp and a moan. Len was rock hard, the pressure of Ray against him sending prickles of pleasure through his spine as his cock strained against the material of his pants. He wanted to rip Ray’s clothes off of him, wanted to bend him over the control hub and fuck him, hard and deep and uncaring of who could walk in. He wanted to feel Ray’s hands on him, taking his cock and jacking it, running his fingers over his length as he kissed him.

But when Ray’s hands grasped him they did not bring him the pleasure he yearned for, instead he found himself thrust away.

“Len, stop. I can’t...” it was pleading, Ray’s cheeks were flushed and his shirt was hiked up over his stomach, a semi bulging a little at his crotch.

Looking at him Snart felt like he was a teenager again, making out with his boyfriend in the kitchen and hoping to God his sister didn’t need a glass of water. It was _hot_.

“ _Relax_ , Boy Scout, everyone’s asleep. No one’s going to see us,” he stepped forward again, prepared to shut him up with his tongue if need be.

“No, Len I mean it. I can’t… do this with you,” Ray swallowed bodily, “not anymore.”

Snart stared, rendered speechless. A few seconds later he regained functional capacity, tilting his head to the side and blinking once, slowly. “And what _exactly_ do you mean by that, Raymond?”

“I uh, _we_ can’t do this anymore. Kissing, touching each other, you know…”

“ _Having sex?_ ”

“Yeah. That. We can’t do it anymore, Len. It’s… God why is this so hard? They always make it look so exciting in the movies,” Ray sighed, casting his eyes down, “It’s Kendra. We kissed. I kissed her. Earlier today, after she saved my life. We kissed and I really liked it and I really like _her_ Len, and it’s that maybe, just maybe, I might have a chance with her at something real, you know? Carter’s gone and she’s alone and-”

Snart wasn’t listening. He’d thrown his head back and he was laughing, hands clasped in front of him. “I’m sorry Raymond, you think you have a _chance?_ Now that bird-boy is out of the picture? _Please_. One of these days one of his incarnations is going to swoop down and carry her off like the hundred other times before and where are you going to be? Left behind. Just like _Cisco_. But do, please, go ahead. See what you can do with it. Go on _dates_. See a _movie_ together, who cares? Buy her dinner and come home and play happy families. Who knows, Raymond, maybe those wings will pop out when you’re trying to go doggy-style and smack you in the face? _Sounds fun._ ”

Ray’s jaw clenched, fists balled at his sides, “Leonard!”

Snart stepped closer still, forcing Ray to lean back against the wall to put any space between them, his eyes narrowed, “ _Raymond._ ”

“Maybe you should try some romance once in a while, huh? I only ever see you when you want to get off, Len. That isn’t the kind of relationship I want to be in.”

“Relationship? What are we, seventeen years old? _Please._ If you want to find someone else to fuck be my guest. Call it what you want, I have better places to be,” Snart looked Ray up and down with disdain, the same way you would look at a half-eaten mouse your cat left on your doorstep, and turned sharply, walking away.

“You know, Len, you sound pretty jealous for a guy who I ‘just have sex’ with,” Ray called after Snart, brimming anger spilling over in what Ray hoped was a vesuvian eruption, but was more like a vinegar-and-baking-soda science fair project.

“Jealously requires me to _care_ , Palmer. Don’t kid yourself into thinking that I do.”

 

***

But he did care. He cared all too much. Back in his bunk, Snart pulled the cold gun roughly out of its holster and aimed it. He pulled the trigger, again and again, firing off stream after stream of ice at the unsuspecting wall.

Why could nothing ever go right? Today alone he’d nearly frozen to death, nearly been killed by fucking _time pirates_ , had to leave his partner stranded in a forest god-knows where or when, and to top it all off Raymond Palmer didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. He’d blown it. He’d had a genuine chance with the guy and he’d gone and fucked that up because he was too fucking scared of his own emotions. _Bullshit_ , all of it.

And where was he now? Alone in his bunk with a hard on and nothing to show for it. _Peachy_.

Throwing the gun down, Snart stripped off and sat heavily on his own bed. Despite the argument his erection had held up pretty well, his cock pointing at a forty-five degree angle in insubordination to his shitty mood. Absentmindedly, he gripped it loosely with one hand, stroking up his shaft in a few slow, lazy strokes. Sex would have been better, granted, but masturbation could work. It’d distract him from the present circumstances at the very least, and any respite on that front was well appreciated.

Snart shifted so he was laying on his bed, propped up on his pillows, and wrapped his hand more firmly around the base of his shaft. He began to pump it, closing his eyes and racking his imagination for a fantasy that would get him off without too much trouble.

Memory fragments flashed before him, snippets of time and faces, scenarios half remembered, half created. Barry, Mick, Ray… his cock twitched in his hand at each, begging for attention. Raymond seemed, as ever, to elicit the most potent response. Snart let his cock go for a brief second, enough time to spit into his palm before grasping it again. Lubricated, his hand slid up and down his shaft easily, his foreskin moving with him as he worked himself, setting his mind on Raymond Palmer.

_Ray’s face screwed up, begging him for his cock as he fingered him, his hands cuffed to the bedframe._

Pumping himself, Snart licked his lips. He let himself relax into it, starting off slowly and building up.

_Ray on his knees in front of him, his come dripping from the side of his mouth even as he swallowed Len’s load. He stood and brought their lips together, letting Len taste himself on his tongue as he shoved it down his throat._

Faster now, faster. His hand was sliding up and down his cock with vigour, his thumb rubbing over his bell-end, smearing the drops of pre-come forming there. Everything that had happened that day was disappearing, replaced by the building pleasure that was slowly engulfing him.

_Ray gripping the shelf in their supply closet as Len fucked him, his balls slapping against Rays ass with every thrust. Ray was tight around him, the pressure in all the right places, making him want to come deep and hard inside him._

Snart bit his lip. He had a rhythm now, his breaths were deep and fast, his heart pounding against his ribcage. It felt good, _very_ good.

_They were in Central City, in Snart’s dingy little apartment in a dingier apartment block. He’d just come back from a job, half a million in diamonds stashed someplace safe. It had been easy. In and out with plenty of time to spare, the cops not even close on the trail behind them. Mick had gone to the bar already but Snart had gone home. Ray was waiting for him, splayed out in his double bed between satin sheets, naked and erect. He stripped Len down to nothing, unbuttoning his shirt with his teeth, shoving his hands down Snart’s underpants to take his hard cock in his hands. He lubed him up with his mouth and guided him into his ass, legs wrapping around Len’s waist._

Eyes screwed shut, Len gripped his sheets with his free hand. He was only aware on a distant level that he was moaning, low and deep, as he pumped his dick faster and harder.

_It was the best sex he’d ever had – nothing in-between him and his lover, simply skin against skin, his hips rocking in a slow yet firm rhythm. The way Ray was moaning, he must be hitting his g-spot with each and every thrust. Ray’s moans only spurred him on, the two men moving together as one being, fingernails scraping skin and mouths leaving deep red bruises. Snart was marking Ray as his, and only his, writing his name in breath over the other man’s chest, over his heart._

He could feel in the pit of his stomach the pleasure rising, higher and higher, sending spikes of electricity through his spine.

_Kendra was there, suddenly. Standing in the doorway. She looked on as Snart fucked Ray harder, faster; as Ray held on to Len for dear life and cried out his name as he came. As he told Len that he and no one else could make him feel that good. As he begged Len for more, for every inch of his cock and every drop of his come._

Back arched, hips pushed up off the bed, Snart was overcome with pleasure. Teetering on the edge of the abyss, the seconds stretching into hours before him, his hand a blur of motion as his cock throbbed and twitched and begged for release.

_As he told him he loved him._

Snart was coming, hot and hard and thick. All over his hand, up his stomach and onto his chest. Muscles twitching, breath ragged, his whole body seemed to pulsate. He brought a hand up to wipe the sweat from his forehead before letting himself flop down completely. He was shaking a little, mouth open wide to gulp in air.

As the waves of pleasure passed, Snart was left spent. His mind was cleared, blank but for the vision of Raymond beneath him, adoration in his eyes and the vestige of love on his plush lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic started out as a bit of fun but now we're 7 chapters in and neck deep in angst. I'm so sorry.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years have passed since Ray, Sara and Kendra were left in 1958, and two years is a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiatus week so a hiatus chapter! Angsty, yes. Also there is Atomic Hawk (Ray/Kendra) but Coldatom is my endgame, don't forget it!

_NO!_

They were leaving. They were _fighting_. Falling back from the bridge deeper into the Waverider, Chronos sending laser blasts careering after them. They retreated further and further, sending a barrage of attacks back but to no avail. The ship beneath them shuddered and shook as Rip shouted the command. Gideon was making the jump into the time stream.

But they couldn’t – surely? Not everyone was aboard. Where was Sara?! Kendra? _Where was RAYMOND?!_

Snart took a shot, the stream of ice blasting from his gun missing Chronos by an inch, coating the interior wall in a thick layer of frost. He roared and shot again, the bounty hunter dodging at the last minute.

The others were stranded in 1958, with no way back. They were gone. Left behind.

 

***

Two years was a long, long time.

That’s how long it had been since Ray had seen the others, since he’d seen the backend of the Waverider shooting off into the sky and leaving them alone on the ground below. He, Kendra and Sara had watched as their friends took off in a blaze of orange and jumped away, without so much as an explanation. Where they had gone, why they had left them, who knew? It was a question that had plagued them all for months.

Well, plagued himself and Kendra at the very least.

The first few days they had simply waited, knowing that whatever happened their friends _would_ come back for them. Pick them up where they had been left, tell them funny anecdotes about engine malfunctions and all would go back to normal. But the days stretched into weeks.

Weeks spent pacing, worrying, theorising. What had happened to them? Was it simply a technical issue? Had there been an attack? Was it Chronos and the Time Masters? Was it Savage himself? Maybe Gideon had malfunctioned and they were trying to get the ship under control. Maybe they’d run out of fuel. Surely, no matter what had happened, they would come back for them. Eventually. It was a time ship, so no matter how long it took to fix or deal with whatever was wrong they’d be able to come and get them soon, right?

“Unless they’re all dead.” Sara always had the most cheery and optimistic theories. “If they could, they would have come back for us by now. Trust me. Snart wouldn’t just let us rot here, neither would Jax. I don’t even think Stein would put much before us. There are only two things I can see that could have happened. One: Rip Hunter hog tied every single one of the rest of our team in their bunks and wrote us off, deciding to go after Savage single handed. Or, the much more _likely_ option, two: They’re all dead. Or as good as dead. And they aren’t coming back.”

That had stirred things up. Ray had never really seen himself as an antagonist: he had been pretty useless on the debate team at school and Anna had always been able to twist his arm into doing anything, but he was also a staunch optimist and simply couldn’t give up hope. His friends _weren’t_ dead. They _would_ come back for them. If he had to wait a _decade_ he would, he didn’t care. He wasn’t going _anywhere_.

Pitting himself against Sara in a shouting match had maybe not been the best plan he’d ever had, finding himself pinned against their living room wall with a kitchen knife to his gut. Kendra had pulled Sara away, seeing the bloodlust in her eyes, and talked her down.

She left not long after that, hugging them both briefly. They wished her luck - Nanda Parbat was far and she had a long journey ahead of her.

_And so there were two._

Kendra, Ray knew, wasn’t as certain as he was that Rip and the others would return, but she was willing to humour him. At the very least, she was willing to _stay with him_. She gave him hope, and that was a blessing all of its own.

They had the house, still, and they had a little money. It was enough to tide themselves over for a while but not for the long haul. If they were going to wait for the Legends to come back for them then they needed to be able to survive in the meantime. That meant getting jobs. That meant earning money. That meant, at least for the short term, building a life in 1958.

Domestic bliss suited Ray well, he found. It took some time but with practice and the help of a monthly subscription to ‘Good Housekeeping’ (and a number of backdated issues kindly donated by a neighbour) Ray mastered the art of cookery, bakery and vacuum cleaning. At home, Kendra was to be treated with the awe and respect that a goddess deserved.

Out of the home, however, things were unfortunately different. Whilst the anti-miscegenation laws in Oregon had been repealed in 1951, Kendra and Ray found themselves faced with as much disdain as they expected as an interracial ‘married’ couple in 1950s America. Verbal abuse and threats were a day-to-day occurrence, and more than once they’d found their car window smashed through with a brick.

The first time he’d picked Kendra up from work, Ray had taken Kendra into his arms in the doorway, kissing her tenderly. She had smiled and pressed her forehead against his, taking his hands and pulling him back inside to introduce him to her work colleagues.

The usual chatter of the women she worked with had ceased to a sharp, stony silence when he appeared, their eyes fixed on him with a mix of fear and anger. White men who took black women for their wives were not known to be kind. Too many of the women Kendra worked with had been beaten and abused by men such as himself, simply because they were black and they were female. It made him feel sick.

That night Kendra took him into her arms. He knew that she, Hawk Goddess or no, was by far stronger than he could ever be. She had faced so much in her existence on this Earth, through all of her past lives, from priestess to pauper to hero. And now, living once again through the atrocities that white America had to offer, she seemed to let nothing phase her. She was his strength and his foundation. Ray only hoped that he was hers, too.

Their domesticism was less than idyllic, but despite everything it was good and wholesome.

Months passed, painfully slowly. Ray found his thoughts, when left alone, always returning to one place: Snart. He had done his best to ignore it at first, the niggling inside him. He wanted to concentrate on the bigger picture, on all of their friends and how they _all_ were, and if they were _all_ coming to find them. But Leonard’s face was always the first to come to mind.

Ray found that his internal monologue often took on Snart’s drawl, chastising him in those long vowels whenever he made a mistake.

He’d accidentally put the oven on too high and burnt the sponge cake he was making to a crisp –

_Really, Raymond, you’d have thought having an IQ of 140 and three PhDs would give you the skills to work an_ oven.

The lawnmower had near exploded on him one Sunday morning after he’d tried to make some modifications to it –

_And there I was thinking that the Atom suit was a marvel of modern engineering. Maybe you should spent less effort on your weapons systems and just integrated one of those?_

Even an absent Snart was somehow infuriating. But thoughts of the other man did not only come forth to mock him.

Intimacy with Kendra was at first the purest pleasure he could have ever dreamed of, and by far the only good thing about being trapped in the 50s. She was strong yet graceful, her body against his like rolling waves against sand, ceaseless and ever threatening to rise up farther and farther to eat away at the cliffs, the sturdy foundation of his heart.

Her mouth against his skin was a furnace, the forge heating him to 2500 degrees, making him white hot and pliable. Her hands were the tools of the master craftsman, manipulating his body to her every will, shaping him and folding him. The bed was the anvil, the surface on which Kendra worked her craft, as Ray was stuck against it over and over…

But oftentimes in the heat of it all Kendra’s name was not that which danced on his tongue. Ray found himself biting back Len’s at the last second, catching himself just before it was too late. Supressing it did little to change how his thoughts manifested. How in his mind’s eye Kendra’s mouth became _Len’s_ , how her hands became _his_ as they worked him to the sheer edge of bliss. Kendra’s whispers of love and adoration echoed in his mind in Leonard’s voice – not his harsh drawl but the breathless, keening murmur that so rarely graced his lips. The voice he used only with Ray, and only in the most secretive manner, as if his feelings were to be guarded in closest confidence.

Warm and loving were not Snart’s greatest features, and tenderness was not his forte. Leonard Snart was cold, he was harsh and abrasive and out only for his own gain. Or at least, that’s what Ray repeated over and over, silently to himself even as Kendra moved to unbutton his shirt. Snart was a man that pulled the trigger on his best friend without a second thought, who used him for cheap thrills and satisfaction, _who hadn’t come back for them yet._

Ray tried to make himself hate him, make the very mention of his name to stir up anger inside of him. But the words were muted and empty. It should have been easy to hate him, for everything, but he couldn’t. Ray couldn’t pretend he hadn’t seen the look in Len’s eyes when he’d told him about Kendra – betrayed, hurt by Ray himself. He couldn’t pretend that Mick hadn’t put them all in danger, and Len had dealt with him, protecting them all. He couldn’t pretend that Len hadn’t proven, sarcasm and feigned indifference aside, time and time again that he cared about them all; that he cared about _Ray_.

And he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t feel the same way. But as exhilarating as it was to have the formidable _Captain Cold_ as his lover, his partner, his – dare he say it – _boyfriend_ , Snart insisted that he wasn’t the kind of guy to have relationships. He wasn’t the kind of guy to keep people around… was he?

But even if he was, none of it mattered now. Len had pushed him away and now Ray was with Kendra, and it was _good_. More importantly, Ray was with Kendra and they were stuck, trapped, in 1960, two years since they had been left behind. Maybe forever.

Ray wasn’t going to give up hope.

They were coming back.

_He’s coming back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Short chapter this week as I only have the promos to work with. Also it's weird trying to write from Ray's POV. Next week will be bigger and better and smuttier on the coldatom front.)


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best Laid Schemes Diverges from Canon:  
> That last scene with Ray and Kendra in 'Left Behind' didn't happen~  
> Len comes and finds Ray instead.

Ray was sitting on his bunk, eyebrows furrowed, the corners of his mouth tugged down into a frown as he stared at the ring in his hands. Two years, two _wonderful_ years, with Kendra had boiled down to this. The team had returned, taken them up and expected them to go on like nothing had happened. Like the last two years didn’t mean anything.

Kendra, surely, should have at least felt _something_? Some sort of regret, or remorse, for leaving their life behind? No. She’d been as ready as Sara to jump back into the action, the mission once again taking priority. It didn’t matter how _he_ felt. It didn’t matter that as Kendra donned her armour, becoming the goddess she really was, Ray felt the last sliver of hope for what they had had slip away.

But that was who she was. The _real_ Kendra. The warrior. Not the woman who he’d come to love these last two years – that was as much her as any of her incarnations had been; a temporary state preluding her true self. As much as he wanted to, Ray couldn’t force her to stay that way, to ignore her calling just to make _him_ happy. It was selfish and cruel, and he knew it.

With a sigh Ray slid the ring under his mattress. He’d get rid of it, sell it, give it away, when they next landed, but for now he’d keep it safe.

A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts, the door of his bunk sliding open a second later to reveal a familiar figure.

“ _Raymond,_ I hope you’re decent.”

Leonard Snart stood in his doorway, hands clasped together and a small smile on his face. He was exactly as Ray remembered down to his boots, his voice just as sharp.  But then again, it had been less than 24 hours for the older man since they’d seen each other. Ray wasn’t sure how to approach that, given everything that had happened between them and how they’d left things before Ray had been stranded in the past: a rejection in a favour of Kendra followed by two years of separation were not conducive to heartfelt reunions. Ray had spent as much time as he possibly could avoiding Snart that day, knowing that nothing good could come of a public confrontation. Or any confrontation, for that matter.

Ray swallowed bodily. This wouldn’t end well.

At Ray’s silence, Snart rolled his eyes and stepped into the room. Best skip the small talk. “I wanted to see how you were doing… make sure you were alright, after…” Len paused, waving a hand around in front of him, “ _everything._ ”

The door clicked shut behind him and Ray's face flicked through a series of expressions like a teenager on a Sunday afternoon with control of the television remote: shock, surprise, guilt, surprise again, before finally settling on what he deemed was the most appropriate - a terrible mix of all three that had the appeal of the thousandth re-run of that one episode of Top Gear - not ideal, but the best that anyone could come up with at short notice.

At last words managed to tumble out of his slightly gaping mouth as he worked on regaining his composure. “Me? I’m fine. Well, kind of fine. Mostly fine. Just, you know, adjusting. Re-adjusting. It’s…” he sighed, “weird and complicated and frankly depressing but I’ll _be_ fine, eventually, you know? No. I should really be the one asking about _you_ , Len. Your hand. _Mick_ …” Ray trailed off, unsure where to really go from there.

Snart averted his eyes briefly at the mention of his former partner’s name, only to wave his newly replaced right hand through the air in front of him again, tilting his head to one side. “It’s certainly been a _day_.”

Sighing, Ray nodded. “Yeah, it has…” the tiniest of smiles pulled at the corner of his mouth as he met Snart’s eyes for the first time, “for _you_. It’s been two years for _me_.”

That did it – Snart cracked a smile and moved forward, sitting himself down heavily next to Ray on his bunk. It was close, familiar even. The other man’s proximity pulled at Ray’s insides, dragging up latent feelings that he’d tried so hard to supress, to _ignore_ , for the last two years.

“About how we left things…” Ray kept his eyes low, unable to bring himself to look at the man next to him.

Snart gave an incredulous snort. “There’s nothing to talk about, Raymond. You made a decision, I have to _respect_ that.”

Ray plucked up the courage to turn his head to look at Len, taking in the sharp lines of his profile, the stubble on his chin, the thin line of his mouth… Snart turned towards him, his lips parting slightly as his eyes flicked over Ray’s face before fixing on the younger man’s own gaze with their piercing blue stare.

“And it was the right decision, Len. I needed something _real_ , something solid. Something that wouldn’t give out underneath me if I threw my weight at it.” Ray licked his lips, searching Snart’s face for some sort of response but it was set coolly with attentive indifference. Ray took a breath and continued. “But two years stuck in the 50s is a long time. Things change.”

If Len was surprised by this admission he was betrayed only by the sudden constriction of his pupils. His voice remained as steady – and critical – as it always seemed to be. “You and Kendra aren’t so hot.” It was a statement, not a question. It wasn’t as if Ray’s reluctance to come back had been quiet.

“We _were_ , living in the 50s. For all its flaws it was _good_. Nice, even. We were a good couple. But now we’re back here on the ship and we have the mission to think about again. We have to fight, we have to make sacrifices. We can’t live like that anymore, we can’t just make a tuna casserole and switch on the radio in the evening. We have a _real_ purpose, and domestic bliss isn’t part of that. It can’t be.”

Ray had closed his eyes somewhere in the middle of all that and pressed a hand to his forehead, but Len’s eyes didn’t leave him once. Snart couldn’t imagine what must be going through the other man’s head, to have accepted the death of your friends with no solid proof and moved on with your life, to have found _happiness_ even, only to have it stripped away from you when your friends returned alive. Kendra, it seemed, was relieved. Ray on the other hand had had the rug ripped out from under him for the umpteenth time in his life, sending him into a freefall of emotions as he tried to grasp his purpose. Sure, he had his own issues, but Snart couldn’t help but feel for him. Despite everything Len still found himself _caring_ about Ray, in a way he’d only ever really cared about Lisa, or Mick. He wanted to be able to take Raymond into his arms, to tell him that it was all going to be alright, to give him the stability he craved. It was such an alien concept to the thief, and yet…

Drawing in a breath, Snart reached out and risked laying his hand firmly on Ray’s lower thigh.

At the contact, Ray’s eyes opened and he glanced furtively between the slender fingers splayed over his leg and the eyes of the man to whom they belonged. Part of him told him to pull away, to shrug off the contact and put up a wall between them – he was with Kendra, no matter how much he’d wished things could have been different, they _weren’t_. But another, stronger part of him told him to stay. It reminded him of all the times Ray had pictured Len’s hands on him instead of Kendra’s, when he’d imagined Len’s mouth pressed against his own, the way the thief’s voice resonated inside his head, berating him for screwing up the time beacon. He’d chosen to be without Snart once before, he couldn’t bring himself to do it again.

“I… I missed you,” Ray’s voice came at last as he shifted slightly, bringing himself closer to Snart. “I thought you were _dead_ , Len. I had to, to accept the fact that you weren’t coming back. I thought you were dead, and I was _happy_ to be with Kendra but… I _missed_ you.”

The air between the two men suddenly became thick as Ray felt his throat tighten, his heart leaping in his chest. Len was leaning towards him, the tips of his fingers trailing across his jaw. Ray turned his cheek into Len’s palm, the other man’s cool touch almost foreign after so long yet entirely unforgettable. Ray was closing the gap between them without thinking, and Len’s mouth met his softly. It was the ghost of a kiss, mostly breath and half-remembered feeling, but it left Ray gasping for air, his lips tingling and his tongue wanting for more. Words tumbled through his mind and he tried to grasp at them, but Snart was kissing him again before any could make it to his lips.  

This kiss was firmer, more self-assured. Len’s hands moved to his waist, pulling him closer as Ray kissed him back, savouring his very touch. Ray’s arms wound around Len and they sat like that for what seemed to be an age, kissing and holding each other like decades had passed since their last embrace.

When they broke again Ray held Snart still, stopping him from pulling away, and rested his forehead against Len’s; their noses just touching.

“I missed _that_ ,” Ray murmured, exhaling deeply. And it was true: the number of times he’d caught himself drifting off into fantasies where he and Len were making out was practically criminal.

“I take it Kendra doesn’t quite match up to my skill,” Len was grinning, watching the blush slowly creep over Ray’s cheeks.

“She uh, doesn’t quite match up in a lot of ways, you know. But you can’t really compare, I mean, she has things you don’t have-“

“Wings and talons.”

“-and you have things she doesn’t.”

“Sharp wit and unquestionable style.”

Ray looked relieved that Snart hadn’t taken it further, but he gave a sly smile none the less. “Exactly. You have a few other things too, you know. She can’t break into banks. She doesn’t quite have your aim or ruthless efficiency when it comes to cleanliness… you should have seen the amount of laundry she just left on the floor.”

“ _And_ she probably can’t hit your prostate with the same speed and accuracy as I can…”

“You just had to lower the tone, didn’t you?”

“Always do, it’s no _fun_ otherwise.”

“Well, you’re uh… not wrong there,” Ray could feel the heat in his cheeks spreading down his neck. It hadn’t been long since he last had sex, but the last time he’d slept with a man – with _Leonard_ – had been more than two years previously. That didn’t mean that he and Kendra hadn’t _tried_ some things, but pegging in the 50s wasn’t the simplest of activities.

Snart’s arms tightened around him and they were kissing again, Ray pushing his tongue between Snart’s parted lips to explore his mouth. He let the taste of the other man wash over him, rekindling memories long since passed as Snart’s hands slid down and gripped the belt loops of his pants.

A flurry of movement and Snart was shifting further onto the bed and pulling Ray into his lap, the younger man’s tongue still down his throat and his hands now cupping his ass. Ray straddled Len’s thighs, his limbic system taking the wheel as he ground his hips against him, feeling his cock harden at the pressure.  

Snart’s hands were under Ray’s shirt, the kiss breaking just long enough to tug it up and over his head, his palms spreading across Ray’s bare torso. Ray moaned quietly into the kiss as Len’s thumbs rubbed over his nipples, his own hands moving to pull at Len’s jacket. Their kiss broke again, Ray shoving Snart’s leather jacket off his shoulders and pulling off his shirt, flinging it to the side before pushing the criminal down on the bed. Ray’s mouth was all over him, at his neck, across his collar bone, down the midline of his chest, kissing every piece of skin that fell beneath his lips.

Snart tasted like sweat, his scent filling Ray’s nose and bringing him back to the last time they were like this. Ray on top and buried deep inside Len’s ass, both of them sweating and panting and then, _then_ after they’d both come hard for the other, Ray had disappeared. He’d gone and met Kendra and pretended like nothing had happened.

Ray stopped mid kiss, his tongue pressed against Snart’s sternum. _He’d been the asshole_.

The last two years he’d thought about a lot of things, he’d thought about Len’s last words to him that night, after they’d left Mick for dead.

_“Jealously requires me to_ care _, Palmer. Don’t kid yourself into thinking that I do.”_

He’d felt them ring true, told himself that despite everything all he was to Len was a sex toy, to be used and discarded. Two years of missing Len’s touch and he still thought the man _used_ him. That’s why he was better off with Kendra, better off with someone who _cared_.

But here he was, checking up on him after everything, after Ray had _rejected_ him. After Mick had captured him and threatened him, and Snart had frozen his own hand off to escape. And here he was, making sure _Ray_ was okay. Ray, whose biggest trauma was arguing with his girlfriend and realising he couldn’t mark his students’ midterms.

_Of course Len cared._

“You alright there, Boy Scout?” Snart had raised his head a few inches from the bed and was peering down at him where he’d stopped.

Ray shifted himself upwards and kissed Snart’s mouth deeply, the other man kissing him back and running his hands down his sides. When Ray broke the kiss he found himself grinning, Snart looking up at him with an amused yet perplexed expression.

“I know you’re not _bad_ at that but you don’t have to be so smug about it, Raymond.”

“No it’s- I realised something, Len. About you.” Ray moved back down Snart’s body, trailing his tongue lightly down his midline before reaching his pants, his hands making quick work of the fly and pushing them – and his underwear – down to his knees.

Len raised an eyebrow, laying his head back down on the bed. “Oh? And what would that be?”

Ray spat on his hand and began working Snart’s shaft, taking he man’s hard cock and running his palm up to his tip, rubbing his thumb over it and spreading the drops of pre-come that had formed there around. Snart inhaled sharply, eyes closing to the pleasure of Ray’s touch.

“You care about me, Len. You always have. You try to hide it but, deep down, you _really_ do care.”

“I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about,” Len tried to say, but it was lost to a deep, throaty moan as he felt Ray’s mouth join his hand at his cock.

Ray took half of Len’s shaft into his mouth in one go, his hand squeezing lightly at his base. He let his saliva drip from his tongue down Len’s length, drawing spirals on the sensitive underside of his cock. When he felt the other man was lubricated enough he started to move, up and down his shaft, his hand following his mouth as he sucked.

Under him, Len groaned, his hips bucking upwards into Ray’s mouth, his hands fisting in the other man’s hair. Taking this as his cue, Ray pushed down and took almost all of Snart’s hard shaft into his mouth; as far as he could down this throat.

“ _Fuck_.”

Ray grinned internally as he felt Len’s hands tighten in his hair, zig-zagging his tongue upwards as he worked up his shaft, pulling out to the very last centimetre. Ray swirled his tongue around Len’s head, lapping at the pre-come forming there, before plunging back down.

Snart’s back was arching up off of the bed as Ray’s mouth worked him tirelessly, sending tingles down his spine with every lick, every suck, every hum. Even after two years of abject abstinence from the act, the Boy Scout still gave some of the best head Snart had ever received. And _fuck_ did he look good between his legs.

Ray took his hand away from Snart’s shaft and, in-between bobs, thrust his middle and ring finger into his mouth, wetting them. As he came back down on Len’s cock, the thief felt the tip of one finger pressing against his entrance. Biting his lip, Snart let himself relax, letting Ray ease a finger into him, then two.

Len couldn’t help but moan, Ray’s name escaping his lips as the man upped his pace, moving up and down Snart’s rock hard cock faster and faster as he fucked him with his fingers. Ray bent his fingers up inside Len to stroke over his prostate, and Snart felt the pressure building inside of him.

The small of his back, the pit of his stomach; his balls tingled and his head swam as Raymond’s tongue and cheeks and throat all made contact with him in the most perfect ways. He was going to come, and hard.

Fisting Ray’s hair tighter, moaning desperately, Snart was at the edge and ready to topple.

“I’m gonna- _coming_ ,” Len managed a short, husky warning, his hips bucking upwards as he felt his dick pulse.

Thick, white come filled Ray’s mouth, Ray swallowing what he could and moaning against Snart’s slowly softening cock as he milked it for every drop that it was worth.

Breathing heavily, Len propped himself up on one elbow as Ray released his cock, pulling his fingers from him at the same time. Ray’s cheeks were scarlet, his hair a wild mess where Len’s hands had been, there was sweat on his brow and chest and there was a single drop of semen running from the corner of his mouth down his chin. It was the hottest thing Snart had ever seen, and if he hadn’t been so spent he’d have fucked the guy’s brains out there and then.

“That was _special_ ,” Len grinned as Ray moved back up the bed so he was lying next to him on his side, the curve between his shoulder and his neck a beautiful, kissable expanse of skin.

Ray grinned back, for once choosing to keep his mouth shut, taking Snart’s hand and entwining their fingers as he leant forwards and kissed him. Len deepened the kiss this time, running his tongue first across Ray’s plush red lips before sliding it into his mouth, tasting himself on the other man’s tongue.

In that one moment, everything seemed perfect. Everything else that had happened in the last few hours all fell away, leaving the two of them pressed together. If every moment could be like this it would be a blessing, without the worry of the mission, or the thought of the danger that lay ahead. But that had been the last two years for Ray, trapped in the 50s, and if he was right about anything it was that domestic bliss had no place aboard the Waverider. Not whilst Savage was still a threat.

So Snart would take the moments like this when he could and he’d cherish them, knowing that the Ray he had was the _real_ Ray. The Ray with a purpose. The Ray who would stop at nothing to keep his friends safe. The Ray who, against all odds, he’d fallen for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for the quality of this chapter - I cannot write as well when it's Ray-centric but due to the canon it kind of had to be. Next week's chapter, continuing on from the canon divergence, will be better I promise!


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That little gap between Len's punch up with Mick and the end of the episode.  
> (set during S01E10 Progeny)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My laptop is busted for the moment so this was written and posted on my tablet, please forgive any mistakes.

Face still stinging, ribs still aching, Leonard Snart strode hands in pockets through the Waverider, the ghost of a smile on his face. That wasn’t to say the situation they were in was exactly ideal, but for once – despite all the chaos – one thing was going right. _Mick_.

Mick: perhaps the only person on the face of the planet who really, _truly_ , got him. Mick: the man who’d saved his life all those years ago, put his body between him and a shiv and his fists between him and the rest of juvie, and who’d stood by him (almost) ever since. Mick: his best, and until very recently, _only_ friend.

He’d walked into the cell a broken man, all but ready to let his former partner end his life. He knew he couldn’t win. Hell, he barely put up a fight. He’d never be able to bring himself to kill Mick, he knew – he’d failed once already – but he just hoped that Mick would share his reluctance. And if he didn’t? What was the world really losing anyway. Lisa was better off without him these days, Mick would have walked a free man and Raymond... well, he’d already proven himself ready and willing to find happiness elsewhere.

He could have kicked himself. What kind of happiness was there to find with him, anyway? At the end of the day they were worlds apart. At the end of the mission they’d go back to how things were before and they’d never see each other again. Why would Ray want to, anyway, unless it was to ethically burglarise PalmerTech to find the holes in their security?

_Everyone would have been better off without him._

But somehow, the glimmer of that 16 year old who’d picked him up by the shoulders and dusted him down, proffering an extra helping of dessert and a swig of moonshine to get him back on his feet, shone through. Len had accepted his fate, but Mick spared him. There was forgiveness in that.

 _Not that I deserve it,_ Snart thought.

And then there was the matter of the _Hunters_. After the disaster that had been their trip to 2147 they were fools to think anything was going to be plain sailing. The Hunters seemed like they were going to be a pain the _ass_ , to say the very least, so as soon as he’d picked his protesting body up off of the floor – Mick’s hand firmly clasped at his elbow, supporting him – he’d frogmarched his former partner straight to Rip.

Being brainwashed by the Time Masters had its perks. Mick was far more knowledgeable about the time stream, event horizons and – most importantly – the Time Master’s protocols for sending deranged bounty hunters and mercenaries after them to collect their heads than Len could ever hope to be. So, after a very tense five minutes whereby he’d almost had to turn Rip’s office into a spikier, deadlier rendition of Winter Wonderland just to cool the two men down, he’d decided it was safe to leave them to it. Once Rip and Mick had formulated a plan he was sure they’d brief the crew, but that would take time. Enough time, Len hoped, to make a pass by the med bay, get some very pleasant pain killers and have a quiet few moments by himself back in his bunk where he was free to wallow in self pity without the rest of the crew getting in the way.

That, of course, all depended on not running into anyone between there and the med bay, which on this very, very small ship was easier said than done.

“LEN!”

Ray Palmer had just turned the corner in front of him, clocking him instantly with those infuriatingly big, brown eyes, his forehead creasing immediately in concern. Head down, eyes averted, Snart tried his best to ignore him, push past and brush it off but Ray was rushing over to him, his hands clasping Snart’s shoulders.

“Len, what the _hell_ happened to you?”

Snart couldn’t shake him off: the combination of Ray’s superior height mixed with his aching limbs sapped him of any real physical advantage. Snark, it seemed, was the only way forward. He narrowed his eyes at the physicist, his trademark cocktail of bored indifference and lazy superiority rolling off his tongue with ease.

“Caught an elbow playing basketball, what does it matter?”

“ _Len_ ,” Ray had set his face, his grip on Snart’s shoulders tightening ever so slightly.

“What can I say, Sara has a mean pass.”

“ _Len_!”

“ _Fine_. I went to see Mick. Are you happy now, Raymond? Can I _go_?” There was an edge to his voice, suddenly; a little anger creeping in as Len pushed forwards against Ray’s grip.

It was vicelike. Neither man budged an inch.  

“ _Mick_ did this to you? Are you _insane_!? Len, he could have _killed_ you! Or worse! You- you look like you’ve gone ten rounds with _Slade Wilson!”_ Ray’s voice was gaining its own edge too, getting steadily higher as he teetered toward the edge of full blown panic.

“I’m _fine_ , Raymond. Leave me alone.”

“Len! _No_! Look at you! Let me at least get you an icepack or _something_ -“

“I said I’m _fine_.” Gritting his teeth Snart pushed against Ray’s hold again, to no avail.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere without medical treatment, if I have to drag you to the med bay _myself_.”

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try, pretty boy. Come on, _bring it!”_ Len had lifted his chin, jutting out his jaw as he tried to close the gap between them, getting as much in Ray’s face as he could given his predicament. Did it matter that that’s where he was heading anyway? Did it matter that Raymond was just showing his concern, his _care and support_ for the man he was sleeping with? Did it matter that he was right? _Of course not._

Snart wasn’t the kind of guy to willingly accept help, let alone any form of pity-driven charity. Snart also wasn’t the kind of guy to back down from a fight, no matter how stacked the odds.

But Ray’s hand moved like a flash, gripping him at the elbow and near yanking him along the rest of the corridor.

***

  
_“I’m pleased to report that Mister Snart has sustained no serious head trauma. The swelling should go down in a few hours with a little ice and you’ll be back on your feet in no time! I would suggest rest and a non-steroidal-anti-inflammatory such as ibuprofen once every four hours. I must say, you do seem to have gotten off quite lightly! Mister Rory really could have done a lot more damage!”_

“Thank you Gideon.” Ray was hovering at the side of the examination table, icepack in one hand and a fresh cotton wool ball in the other, eyebrows furrowed at Snart’s prone form.

Leonard was reclining on the table with a slightly pained expression – more so due to the AI’s last comment than to his injuries. He was shirtless, his pale skin marked along the side of his ribs with livid, purple bruises. Gideon was right, though. No broken bones, no internal bleeding; Len hadn’t been the only one pulling his punches.

“Here, let me get that for you...” Ray was leaning forward gently, pressing the cotton wool ball to Len’s tender cheekbone, his other hand braced lightly on Len’s bicep.

Ray’s hand was warm on his skin. Snart closed his eyes, his dark lashes fluttering against Ray’s finger as he drew the soft pad across his cheek. It came away red.

“There, not much blood. Won’t even scar,” Ray murmured, popping the ball into the clinical waste bin and moving the icepack to press against Snart’s cheek in its place.

Len leaned into the pressure without thinking about it, a small modicum of relief spreading through his bruised skin at the cold. He allowed himself to take a breath, feeling suddenly a little lighter. Ray was there, caring for him, caring about him. As much as he hated to admit it, it was comforting.

“So what happened, _really_?” Ray kept his voice low but it seemed to fill the room, stretching between the two men atop the silence and the gentle sounds of their breath.

Snart rolled his shoulders in a protracted shrug. “Mick and I had a heart to heart, just like everyone said we should.”

Ray snorted incredulously. “With your fists?”

“It’s the best way with Mick. Always has been.”

“So you just waltzed into the brig and let him break your face? Because you don’t seem to have put up much of a fight yourself, Len. And you’re not usually the kind of guy who takes a beating lying down.”

“ _True_.” Snart rolled the word over his tongue far longer than he needed to. Anything to put off having to admit the truth.

Ray shifted his hand on the icepack, bringing his other up to Len’s shoulder. “So why did you let him do it? Turn you into a human piñata, I mean?”

Len’s answer came after a long pause and much deliberation. Shit, it nearly didn’t come at all. If anyone on the ship would understand the choice he made, it certainly wasn’t going to be _Raymond_. But after everything the man had done for him, he owed him that at the very least.

“We made a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” It was too fast, almost accusatory. Ray could have kicked himself.

Len sighed, forcefully, before continuing. “The kind only one person walks away from. He kills _me_ , he gets to take the jumpship and run. I kill _him_ , well. It’s better for him than being locked up in a glass box for the rest of his life. Win-win for Mick.”

In that moment, Len could have punched the Boy Scout. He stood there in front of him, mouth hanging open, truly aghast. No wonder the kid had no stomach for violent crime. He was speechless, utterly. _A nice change,_ Snart thought.

But then realisation seemed to hit him, and Ray’s face morphed from a picture of disgust through to deep, heart-wrenching concern. The kind of face that guilt-trips you into giving money to animal shelters. His tone of voice wasn’t much better; Snart could almost hear it shake half way through.

“But you didn’t _fight back_.”

“Oh, I got a few punches in here and there.”

" _Len_. You know what I-“ Ray shook his head, eyes lowered. “You were going to let him _kill_ you.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Looking up at last, Ray met Len’s eyes like a kicked puppy. “That doesn’t change the fact that you were going to let him _kill_ you, Len. And you know it.”

Gaze not wavering from the younger man, Len steeled his voice. “I made a choice, Raymond. I walked into that cell knowing I’d either walk out of it again with my partner or I wouldn’t. If there was anything of Mick left in there I knew he wouldn’t kill me.” _Probably_. Snart shut his eyes for a few seconds, flaring his nostrils before continuing. “And if there wasn’t I’d be dead. No real loss there.”

Ray’s eyes boggled. “No real loss!? What the hell, Len?”

Snart shrugged again. “What difference would it have made, really? Other than the occasional robbery what do I actually add to the team, Raymond? Jack _shit_.”

Ray’s hand gripped his shoulder tighter. “Are you even _hearing_ yourself?! What difference would it make? All the difference, Len. To all of us. To the team. It would have mattered to everyone, and I can’t understand why you can’t accept that! Why do you always have to be so _selfish_?”

Snart’s hand was a blur, suddenly gripping Ray’s wrist a little too tight as his eyes narrowed at the taller man. “Because I _am_ selfish, Raymond. I’m a thief, I’m a criminal and a liar, and I _hurt_ people for my own benefit,” he took in a breath, feeling chills down his spine as he remembered the last time those words, or near enough, passed his lips. “What did you expect me to do, Raymond? _Not be who I am_?”

Ray didn’t move, but there was anger burning behind his eyes. “That’s _bullshit_. You don’t think any of us care about you, or what happens to you, do you, Len? Even after all of this, even after you’ve finally dropped your stupid charade where you pretend not to care, you still won’t accept that we care about _you_.” He inhaled sharply. “That _I_ care about you.”

Snart didn’t even realise it was happening until he felt the heat of Raymond’s lips against his own; until he was licking into the other man’s mouth and pulling him into his lap, his arms snaking around his waist. It was like he was working on autopilot, crushing his chest against Ray’s, one hand moving up the man’s back to hold the nape of his neck as he kissed the fury from him.

Ray kissed him back with an intensity he hadn’t seen in him before; it was like he was burning, a rage fuelled fire running tempest in his chest. In that moment Ray was so much like Mick it made Len gasp. Blood pounded in his ears, rushing swiftly to where it needed to be the most.

Len ground up against Ray’s hips from his vantage on he bed, pulling the other man as close as he could, sending waves of pain through his torso uncaringly. But Ray pulled away, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against Snart’s, his breath coming thick and fast.

His cheeks were flushed as he spoke. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”

Grinning, Snart pressed another, gentler, kiss to Ray’s lips. He cupped the man’s cheek in his hand and pushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead with his thumb.

“Rip’s going to want to brief us all on some new developments relatively soon, but after that I’m sure there are some things I can do that will get you to forgive me, Raymond.” 


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set mid-episode in 'The Magnificent Eight', Ray and Len meet after running the Stillwater gang out of town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST FREE CHAPTER  
> Though admittedly *very* PWP

The sun was lazily sinking to the west as Snart stood in the alleyway, back up against the wooden slats of the gaol and his hat tipped down low over his eyes. There was a rifle next to him, similarly leaning against the building, and still a little hot from use. He had never really considered himself a marksman – Mick always had more of an interest in firearms than he – but he was a _damn_ good shot none the less, as he’d proven today. He’d been _especially_ pleased with the shot. The pistol had flown straight out of Stillwater’s fingers, though he’d have much preferred doing a little more than just superficial damage.

He’d been a little surprised when the Boy Scout had asked him to be his sniper. Compared to Sara, or even Mick, his skills weren’t that honed. Especially with a 19th century rifle with no sight. But Raymond had put his hand on his shoulder and told him he _trusted_ him. Out of everyone on the team, Ray trusted _him_ with his life the most. Len shook his head. Even now he couldn’t quite believe it; that ‘see the best in everyone’ nature of his was going to get him killed one day.

Snart had tried to protest, of course, but Ray had given him that damned look of his, with his big, brown, puppy-dog eyes that could melt the coldest of hearts, and Len had to agree.

_“Fine, but if you get shot because I miss I won’t take the blame.”_

And Ray had nodded, telling him that he knew he wouldn’t miss, before kissing him softly on the mouth and giving his ass a playful slap. And that had been that. It had been a wonderful success and they’d run the Stillwater gang out of town, Hollywood style.

Admittedly, Snart did enjoy the theatrics of it all.

Raymond had seemed happy about the whole affair, probably more for fulfilling his Wild West fantasies than anything else. It was _cute_. Len, of course, did have a few _ideas_ himself, understated as he liked to keep them, though he doubted he’d find the time to rob a train while they were in this time period. His other fantasies were _much_ more achievable...

A tall shadow fell across the ground in front of him and Len looked up to see the figure of Ray Palmer outlined by the afternoon sun. He, too, had his hat tipped low over his face, a toothpick sticking out of the corner of his mouth, both his hands gripping the buffed buckle at his belt. If the get-up hadn’t suited him as handsomely as it did it would have been comical, or made him look like a two dollar stripper. Instead, he looked like a movie star.

“That was some good shootin’ back there, Len,” Ray said, an all too obviously put on lilt accenting his voice.

Snart rolled his eyes. “I was expecting a ‘darn’ in there, cowboy, but I’ll take it. I do my best.” He kicked off and wall and rolled his shoulders testingly. “Would have been a lot easier if you’d let me put a bullet through the side of his head. Then there wouldn’t have been a chance of him shooting you if things went south.”

Ray started toward him. “You’d do that for me?”

Snart pretended to consider as the two men drew closer to one another, coming to a halt mere centimetres apart. Len tilted his head back a little, shifting the brim of his hat so he could meet Ray’s eyes with a hungry stare.

“Anything for you, _Sheriff_.”

In a breath Ray was kissing him, hot and hard, his hands gripping the leather of his duster and pulling him close. Snart moaned into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the taller man and parting his lips to Ray’s tongue. Ray dominated his mouth, licking wide circles on the roof before pushing back, down his throat. Half gagging on the man’s tongue, Snart tried to fight back with his own, but to no avail. Ray was taller, he had more leverage and, evidentially, more adrenaline coursing around his system.

Without breaking the kiss, Ray moved his hands to the lapels of Len’s duster and pushed him backwards, hard, into the wall. Snart moaned again at the impact, bringing one hand up to fist into Raymond’s hair.

At last Ray broke the kiss, coming up for air and breathing hard, their noses almost touching.

Len grinned. “That was quite a kiss.”

A smile broke out all over Ray’s face like a bad case of smallpox, Snart could practically see the sunshine coming out of his ears.

Except of course there was a devious glint in his eyes that made Len go a little weak at the knees.

Ray brought a hand up to cup Len’s cheek, practically purring. “I wish I knew how to quit you.”

“You _didn’t_ -” Snart was cut off by Ray’s mouth pressing once again to his own.

This time he fought back with a little more vigour, battling Raymond’s tongue for dominance and succeeding. He slipped one hand down to Ray’s crotch as he licked behind his teeth, letting the other man grind his bulging cock against his palm as they kissed. It was Ray’s turn to moan, now, prompting Snart to push deeper into his mouth and move both his hands from their current purchases to his belt buckle, pulling the clasp open.

One of Len’s hands drove down inside Ray’s pants while the other pulled his own belt buckle open, but Ray seemed to cage up, stepping back a little and breaking their kiss.

“Woah, woah Len calm down! It’s the middle of the day! Anyone could walk in on us! And we have to get back to the ship...”

Snart raised an eyebrow incredulously. “Don’t be a _prude_ , Raymond. We have plenty of time and there’s hardly anyone about out there now. I’m sure everyone’s off celebrating at the saloon after our _victory_.” He pulled Ray back toward him, his mouth at the man’s neck. “We _certainly_ have enough time for a quickie.”

Ray leaned into the contact, stretching his neck up to give Len more skin to kiss. “Alright, Len, but I didn’t bring any... _you know_... with me.”

Snart made a satisfied sound as he kissed up to Ray’s jaw. “Neither did _I._ ‘No modern tech’, remember?” He pulled the other man tight against him. “If _you’re_ happy to do it then so am _I._ We can go full _Brokeback_.”

A small moan emanated from Ray’s lips. “You mean...?”

Snart’s mouth remained firmly against Raymond’s neck as he replied. “Only if you want to. I’m happy to just suck you off, _Sheriff_.”

Ray considered for a moment before answering, enjoying the pressure of Len’s tongue on the curve of his neck. “...Alright.”

Snart jerked his head up, his eyes twinkling with poorly disguised debauchery. “ _Really_?”

The other man nodded curtly. “But I’m the _sheriff_ , so _I_ get to top.”

“...fine.”

And Ray’s hands were back on his coat, spinning him around and pushing him hard against the wall of the gaol. Snart spread his legs obediently as the younger man moved the length of his duster over his left hip and worked his pants down until they were at his lower thigh, revealing the pale flesh of his buttocks.

Bracing his hands against the wall, Snart let himself relax, taking short, shallow breaths as he heard Ray unceremoniously spit into his hand. Ray worked his saliva thickly between his fingers before slowly pushing one, then two, into Len’s ass. When the thief seemed receptive, he added a third and twisted slowly, making sure to wet as much of Snart’s ass as he could.

It was pleasant, definitely, but it wasn’t what Snart _wanted_ , what he _needed_. He turned his head as far as he could and threw the comment over his shoulder. “You know, Raymond, this _is_ supposed to be a _quickie_...”

Ray pulled his fingers out sharply and Snart exhaled. “I’m getting there, Len.”

“We haven’t got all day.”

The sound of Raymond spitting onto his palm quickly followed, and then next thing Len knew there was pressure at his entrance. Ray’s cock pushed against him, its head slick with spit soon sliding inside.

Snart gasped, biting back a cry as Ray thrust forward hard. It was a feeling like no other, knowing that the man _fucking_ him, thrusts short and sharp sending tremors into his hips, was bareback. _Ray Palmer_ was inside of him, his cock against his own flesh without anything between them. Len gave a long, low moan as Ray picked up his pace, hands clawing at his hips, grunting softly with each deliciously selfish thrust. Every drop of Ray’s pre-come was leaking _into_ him. When he came, it would be _inside_ him.

That was a privilege Snart had given to precious few men in his time, and it felt good giving it to Raymond now. He trusted him, wholly, completely. An even rarer privilege to be given by Leonard Snart.

Ray’s right hand snaked around from its perch at Len’s hip to take his cock roughly. Almost immediately he began pumping it; no slow build up, no tantalising tease. No, Ray jacked Len off in time with his thrusts, which were now degenerating to half-lengths, but twice as hard.

Ray was pulling out only three or four inches at the most, then driving himself back in with as much force as he could muster, his balls hitting the tense muscle of Snart’s ass cheeks. With the pressure of Ray’s cock inside him, pushing all the right buttons on the inside, and Ray’s hand wrapped around his boner and pumping tirelessly, Snart was euphoric. He was riding the edge of an orgasm with each passing second, knowing that oh so soon the friction of it all would come down on him and push him, hurtling and flailing, over and into the abyss.

Behind him, Ray was keening. His head was thrown back and his mouth open, his eyes screwed shut. With a low groan he pushed himself with all of his strength as deep as he would go into Snart’s ass, his cock pulsing as he came in spurts.

Len felt the pressure, Ray’s shaft dragging along his prostate, the man’s palm tightening on his shaft. Snart dropped his own hand from the wall to his cock, gripping on top of Ray’s hand and guiding it. Three more pumps was all it took, and he was pressing himself back on Ray’s cock still buried deep inside of him as he, too, came hard and hot against the wooden slats, a little spilling over and onto the ground.

Ray pulled out and Len felt his knees buckle, but the other man’s hands were there, gripping him tight. With a little effort he forced himself to stand straight, yanking up his pants and, with shaking fingers, securing the belt. Ray gave him a sheepish smile, his cheeks flushed red.

“That was...” Ray seemed to dangle on the precipice of aphasia, mind still reeling from his orgasm.

“ _Fun_.” Snart grinned back at him, tucking his shirt back into his pants. “I can cross ‘rough sex in the Wild West’ off of my bucket list.”

“And there I was thinking I was the only one with cowboy fantasies...” Ray chuckled, adjusting his hat.

“Trust me, we haven’t even gotten _started_ on my fantasies, Raymond.” Len took a step forward, wincing slightly. By God he was going to hurt in the morning.


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was painfully little Lisa Snart in the last episode of Legends, so I thought I should probably fix that. 
> 
> Set after the end of 'Last Refuge', SE01E12

The last day or so for Ray Palmer had probably been the most stressful in his entire life, _including_ the Mirakuru soldiers taking over Starling City _and_ being trapped by Damien Darhk, maybe even combined. He’d nearly died, nearly been _erased_ from the timeline, along with many of his teammates, and they’d all nearly _lost_ at the hands of the Pilgrim. What’s more, he currently had his dead fiancée sleeping off the shock of her kidnapping in his bunk.

What more could a boy dream for?

It had been wonderful seeing Anna again, it had been wonderful to be able to pull her close once more and smell her hair as she wrapped her (shaking) arms around him. But he _knew_ he couldn’t get attached to it. Not again. At some point soon they’d have to deposit her back into her timeline.

Her _doomed_ timeline.

Ray wasn’t sure he was ready for that; knowingly sending the woman he used to love to her death... So for now he was doing what Ray really did best: ignoring it. Burying himself in work. The next time they struck at Vandal Savage he was going to be at the height of his power, which meant that the team had to prepare, and do it _fast_.

Sitting on the bridge (he didn’t want to disturb Anna’s sleep), Ray was pouring through his notes on his tablet, searching for some way he could somehow upgrade the Atom suit in the next 24 hours. So engrossed he was, with his nose almost pressed against the touchscreen, that he didn’t notice the figure approach.

A sudden pressure on his thighs brought him back to Earth as the figure happily plopped down onto his lap, making Ray yelp.

“ _Len!_ We’re in _public!_ ”

Despite their night-time dalliances and sneaky, _dirty_ daytime escapades, Ray and Len hadn’t delved into the realms of _cuddling_ quite yet, especially not in front of the other Legends. Their… _whatever_ was on a strictly need to know basis, or at least that’s what Snart had said to him.

“I think you’ve got the _wrong_ Snart, honey pie,” said a voice that did _not_ belong to Leonard. It was a nice voice, Ray reasoned, smooth and silky and without a hint of drawl. It was decidedly female, and it came from the figure currently holding the monopoly on his thighs.

Ray lowered his tablet slowly and raised his eyes, taking in the sight before him. The figure was slender; long brown hair flowing down her back in waves, her skin blemishless and pale. She smiled a nefarious smile with her poison-apple-red lips and threw an arm around Ray’s shoulders, crossing one leg over the other in a trademark, _Snartlike_ , lounge.

“ _Lisa_.” Ray had never met Len’s sister before, but he’d heard about her – from Len and Mick both – and he’d caught a glimpse of the pictures his boyfriend – _was it okay to call Len that?_ – kept in his wallet. She was unmistakeable, with her glittering gold mascara and that warm, almost _spicy_ perfume. Ray was left wondering how he ever mistook her for her brother to begin with.

“ _In the flesh_ ,” her grin didn’t drop as she surveyed him, seemingly scrutinising every inch of his face, neck and, well, chest. Every inch of him that was _visible_ in this position, anyway.

_At least I’m not standing up_ , Ray thought, his cheeks colouring ever so slightly – much to Lisa’s satisfaction.

“So _you’re_ the boy making my brother go all _gooey,_ ” she continued, “I have to say, I _approve_.” She pressed her lips together and poked a gold painted index finger at Ray’s nose, her eyes flashing. “You’re _cute_.”

“Uh.” Ray opened and shut his mouth a few times, words failing him as Lisa drew her finger along the line of his jawbone.

“And what a _jaw_. I could just _eat you up_ , Ray,” she sucked in a breath like she was going to comment on the finer points of her brother’s enjoyment of Ray’s face but she didn’t get to start.

Something almost like a growl sounded behind Ray’s head, followed by the pointed drawl he knew so well.

“ _Lisa.”_

“ _Lenny!_ ” the woman’s head angled up, her eyes focused on a point above Ray’s head as she smiled as sweetly as she could.

“Get _off_ of him.”

The corners of Lisa’s mouth tugged down into a mock frown. “Why?” It was indignant, like a child refusing to give up a new toy.

“ _Now_ , Lisa.” Snart’s voice hitched down a peg, something about it almost guttural. “You’re supposed to be _resting_. You weren’t supposed to _leave_ the room.”

At once Lisa’s smile was back on her face as she sighed and rolled her eyes, lounging further back against Ray’s shoulder. “And when _exactly_ did I start doing what you tell me to, Lenny?”

“ _Off_.”

Ray winced at the iciness of the command.

But to the surprise of Ray, and almost definitely Snart, Lisa uncrossed her legs and leant forward. “Alright. But on _one_ condition, _brother dear…_ ”

Len’s sigh was evident, his own eye-roll blatant as he answered. “And _what_ might that be, _sis_?”

Lisa averted her eyes, examining her nails and suddenly gaining this nonchalant aura that Ray could have sworn was practically _feline_. And hereditary.

 “ _You_ take my place.” She glanced up at her brother, baring her fangs in what could have been called a smile.

Ray spluttered. Surely Len wouldn’t agree? Not that he would mind but, well, _need to know_ and all.

“ _Fine._ ” It was sharp, an admission of unwilling defeat, but Lisa seemed satisfied.

 She stood in one swift movement and swept her arm toward Ray’s now free lap, watching with eager eyes as her brother stepped round the chair and sat himself firmly down atop Ray’s thighs. Len leaned back against Ray’s chest, crossing his own legs over each other and wrapping his arm around Ray’s shoulders in mimicry of Lisa’s vacant post. With his free hand his took hold of Ray’s wrist and pulled his arm around his waist, wriggling a little to make himself comfortable against his new, human cushion.

“ _Happy?_ ”

Sometimes, Ray forgot how very little shame Leonard Snart actually had.

“Euphoric,” Lisa shot a wink at Ray and turned, making a quick survey of the other Legends who were, for the most part, all sat around the central console.

They _had_ been caught up in various discussions and stratagems, trying to work out a plan between them to ensure Savage’s demise, but, with a sinking heart, Ray realised the rest of the team were looking as one toward him.

Toward him and _Snart_.

Jax and Stein shared the same dumbfounded expression, eyes wide, mouths open agape.

Kendra held the back of her hand to her mouth, eyes flicking between Ray and Len and back again.

Rip was a picture of incredulity, the personification of ‘unimpressed’ – at their timing or their relationship, Ray couldn’t tell.

Sara was practically smug, whereas Mick… _Mick_ wasn’t looking at them at all. Instead, he’d locked eyes with Lisa, a wide grin plastered across his mug like a man having witnessed the perfect execution of something long in the planning.

Ray tightened his grip around Len’s waist almost defensively, eyes darting around his teammates in turn, waiting for the tension to break.

It finally did when Snart sighed, turning his attention to Rip while his thumb ran from the angle of Ray’s jaw down to his collar bone absentmindedly. The touch sent a pleasant shiver down Ray’s spine.

“Are we going to come up with a _plan_ or spend the rest of the day gawping?” Len’s voice practically dripped with his usual disdain.

Rip shot him a glare before conceding, launching back into a hurried spiel to bring the rest of the crew’s eyes back round to him. “Mister Snart has a _point_ , unfortunately. Now, _Vandal Savage_ in 2166 will be at his _most powerful_ …”

Ray nuzzled his head into the angle of Len’s neck, breathing in the cool scent of his cologne as Rip’s words faded out. He could strategize later, his suit was the priority. Well, _almost_ the priority. Ray would take a few minutes appreciating this rare public display of affection from Leonard first, and capitalise on his newfound ability to be as affectionate as he wanted in return.

And with Lisa hovering at the edge of the circle, Snart wasn’t going _anywhere_.

Pressing small kisses on the skin below his mouth, Ray reached with the hand not wrapped around Len’s middle to mesh his fingers with Snart’s long, delicate ones and meeting no complaint. Snart, meanwhile, held his usual posture; an air of indifference shrouding all but his eyes.

Eyes closed, soaking up Snart’s body heat through his thin shirt, Ray didn’t hear the question Rip fired at him until Len answered instead. Ray peered guiltily over the man’s shoulder, clocking the distinctly unamused head shake from their captain before deciding it was probably best to actually pull his weight.

He reluctantly loosened his grip on Len’s torso, releasing his hand and picking up the tablet sandwiched between them and getting back to work. Snart, on the other hand, only shifted to give Ray enough elbowroom, his arm remaining firmly draped over the younger man’s shoulder.

* * *

 

Much like her brother, Lisa seemed determined to stay put, soon giving up on just hovering at the side-lines. The similarities didn’t stop there. Leonard Snart, everyone knew, was a _master_ of the casual lounge, utilising any and all available surfaces in a room to sit, lean or lay, at least one foot always propped up against _something_. For Lisa, this innate skill wasn’t limited only to inanimate objects. Oh no. Lisa’s lounging extended to _people_.

When Ray glanced up the first time, Lisa was perched on the low arm rest of the free seat, her calves crossed on the other, reclining comfortably back into Kendra’s lap. Kendra was deep in discussion with Rip and Professor Stein about the subtleties of stabbing a tyrant in the neck, but her hands were occupied; loosely plaiting braids into Lisa’s hair as the girl closed her eyes contentedly.

* * *

 

The next time Ray looked up it was because Len had moved, shifting his weight over to Ray’s right leg just as his left was starting to tingle. Snart seemed tenser than usual, his fingers tapping incessantly against his thigh. Ray followed the man’s gaze to the stiff figure of Jax, his bottom lip pressed between his teeth and his eyes darting to the Professor next to him. The object of contention, it was obvious, was the figure of Lisa leaning against the back of his chair, her arms draped around his neck and her bust resting on his shoulders as she shot a shark-like smile at her brother.

Martin Stein had crossed one leg over the other, his hands folded in his lap as he glared daggers at his younger counterpart.

_Poor Jax_ , Ray thought, absentmindedly running his fingertips across the back of Len’s scalp and turning back to his tablet, eyebrows furrowed.

* * *

 

“That will _never_ work,” Lisa’s voice cut across the room, higher and sharper than anyone else’s.

Ray snapped his head up, turning to the voice to see Lisa settled horizontally across Rip’s lap. Their captain clenched his jaw in irritation.

“And what exactly would _you_ suggest, Miss Snart? Evidently you have the _most_ experience in bringing down tyrannical dictators from the future. No, please! _Share_ with the rest of us,” Rip scoffed, shifting his weight and trying to dislodge her.

But Lisa was steadfast, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “I didn’t say I had a _better_ idea, Rip. Only that Savage will see that kind of ambush coming a _mile_ away. He already knows who all of you are, so there’s no way you’re going to catch him by surprise like _that._ ”

“None the less, _Lisa_ , we have to try _something_. When _you_ have a spot on the team, maybe then you can have an input rather than interrupting me when I’m _trying_ to come up with a plan.”

Lisa stuck out her tongue petulantly, jabbing Rip in the cheek with a finger before swinging her legs back to the floor and hopping up. “ _Fine_. Have it your way and get yourself killed.”

She sashayed across the bridge, coming to a halt in front of Sara, spinning quite dramatically on her heels and plopping down suddenly in the woman’s lap, wiggling backwards to make herself comfortable as Sara instinctively snaked her arms around her.

Ray felt the breath leave Snart’s chest against him as the criminal groaned inwardly, letting his head loll back and turning it to bury his face in Ray’s neck. The heat of his breath and the chaste touch of his lips against Ray’s skin accompanied a muttered curse.

It sounded suspiciously like, “ _I can’t win, can I?_ ” but was quickly concealed by the nip of teeth and the press of a tongue at the point of Ray’s jugular. Ray knew deep down that it was maybe a little _too_ voyeuristic to let the thief give him a hickey in front of the whole team, but, well… maybe it was the novelty of Snart being so openly affectionate, or the thought of going to head to head with Vandal Savage in the very near future, but he closed his eyes and didn’t lift a finger to stop it.

_Why not live a little, eh?_

Sara, for her part, seemed smugly satisfied with the situation.

* * *

 

As urgent as it was to come up with a tactical plan before time set and their younger selves remained removed from the timeline _ad infinitum_ , the meeting as it stood stretched on. Satisfied with his software upgrades on the suit, Ray was now taking a more active part in the discussion, both arms wrapped around Len’s middle and holding him close to his chest.

To Sara’s disappointment, Lisa had shifted a seat across and was now sat firmly on Mick’s knee, his arm curled protectively around her. Lisa’s head rested against the pillow of the man’s large shoulder, her eyes shut to the world.

Lisa snuffled a little, making Mick look down with an endearing smile, one large thumb coming up to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I think sleeping beauty here needs a proper bed…” Mick said to the room, but mostly to Snart, who inclined his head in agreement.

“If you wake her she won’t go down without a fight,” Len warned, before sighing almost wistfully. Ray couldn’t help but wonder what it must have been like for him as a teenager, suddenly thrust with so much responsibility; Lisa’s life quite literally in his hands.

Mick gave a soft grunt in response. “Never did. ‘s alright. I’ll carry her.”

The arsonist stood carefully, hefting Lisa’s weight onto his hip and then up and over his shoulder, fireman style, before lumbering off into the depths of the ship.

Against him, Ray felt Snart relax at once, near-melting against his frame as the pent up tension in his shoulders dissipated. Lisa was in safe hands, at least for now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh I'm so sorry this is so late. It's coldatomweek and I've been focusing on making sure all my fics are to tip to standard, plus I've started back at Uni. At least I got this out before the next episode airs, though! Next week's will be in much better time, I promise.


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After S01E13 - Leviathan
> 
> They've just captured Vandal Savage - surely there should be some sort of celebration? But where is Ray?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's angst, there's hurt/comfort, there's SMUT, everything that you love about the best bits of this fic (i hope). 
> 
> Special call out to snarkysnartes over on tumblr - happy birthday, my dear!

They _should_ have been celebrating.

In an ideal world, Snart thought, he should be shitfaced and near-passed out on Mick’s shoulder, the bigger man finishing off whatever liquor bottle they’d been sharing before cracking open another and passing it off to Sara.

There should be _music_. There should be _dancing_. They should be locking the ship down for a final, messy night together before turning tail and heading straight back to Central City 2016; straight _home_.

_In an ideal world._

Instead, the faces on the bridge weren’t so ecstatic. Sure, they weren’t exactly depressed either, but the weight on everyone’s shoulders was still there, pushing them all down. They’d succeeded in part, but Savage was still alive and would be until they somehow convinced him to give up the secret to unlocking Carter’s memories. _Joy_.

Speaking of pigeonman himself, Carter was sedated in the medbay with Kendra standing vigil at his bedside. But then again, that was _soulmates_ for you.

Rip was preoccupied, the Professor and Jax were doing their best to patch up the Waverider after the damage it had sustained from the Leviathan… hell, even Mick was doing _something_. Sara, Len assumed, was keeping watch over their shiny new prisoner which only left _Raymond_ unaccounted for.

Out of all of them, Ray really should have been bringing the sunshine and rainbows. He’d _fought a giant robot_ , for fuck’s sake. And _won_. That was enough to send little thrills of excitement through even the surliest, most hardened of the team. (Snart wouldn’t deny that the long lost five year old buried deep down inside him may have perked up a bit when the words ‘giant’ and ‘robot’ and ‘fight’ were all mentioned at once.)

But even after his very _real_ win, Raymond wasn’t skipping around the ship re-enacting parts of the battle like Len thought he would be, making ‘pew pew’ sounds or at least quoting something from _Pacific Rim_ or _Alien Vs Predator_. So Ray wasn’t gloating, or _enthusing_ – Snart was never sure which was the more appropriate term – and he wasn’t helping the others sticky tape the ship back together. He wasn’t in the medbay, or keeping watch over Savage, _or_ in his bunk…

Len even made a quick pass of the shower block, part of him hoping to find a freshly steamed Raymond waiting for him in a cubicle, but nope. He wasn’t in luck. The canteen then, surely Ray would be filling his well-toned body with protein and carbs after such an ordeal? Not even remotely.

This wasn’t panic, Len told himself. How could be panicking about losing a 36 year old man? He’d lost track of Lisa more times than he could count and not batted an eyelid, but then again he always knew that Lisa would find her way back to him when she got bored or hungry or…

_Of course_.

Len had half a mind to bash his forehead into the bulkhead doors.

Where would Ray, oh _sweet_ Ray who buried himself in his work and sometimes didn’t eat or sleep for days when he had an idea or a _problem_ , go? The lab. He’d set himself up in the lab and not leave until he’d worked out or through whatever little thing was bothering him.

And sure enough, as Snart swiped open the laboratory door, there he was. Lit only by a single lamp, Ray had his back to him, his shoulders tense and hunched over. A high pitched buzz filled the room, a shower of sparks cascading from the welding torch in his hands.

Len let the door close before pressing his back to it, folding his arms over his chest and exhaling with force as he settled down against the metal, resigned to wait.

At last the noise ceased, the sparks running to a halt as Ray set down the torch to examine his work.

“You _know_ , working in the dark like this is going to _ruin_ those pretty eyes of yours…” Snart smirked as the taller man visibly jerked, whipping around suddenly to fix him with some sort of glare.

A glare, Snart postulated, that would probably have been much more menacing if a) it hadn’t been coming from Ray and b) the man hadn’t been wearing a pair of large, round goggles that looked suspiciously like Mick’s.

“How long have you been standing there?” Ray’s voice was tight.

Snart made a point of avoiding Ray’s eyes, choosing instead to examine his nails with mild disinterest. “Not long.”

Sighing, Ray pulled the goggled from his face, dumping them on the table along with the protective gloves he’d been wearing, and carded his fingers through his hair. “Why are you here, Len?”

_That_ made Snart look up, eyes narrowing at the uncomfortable look on the other man’s face. “You weren’t with the rest of us, Raymond. You should be celebrating.”

“Don’t have much to celebrate about.”

“Oh _no_?” Kicking off the wall Snart stalked toward Ray, coming to a halt bare inches from him and raising his eyebrows. “Savage may not be dead, _yet,_ but that doesn’t mean this isn’t a _victory_ , Raymond.”

Ray avoided his eyes. “It doesn’t feel like a victory.”

“Oh come _on_ , Raymond. You just proved yourself _Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots_ champion of the century. _That_ at least deserves some celebration.”

Ray huffed – god bless the boy he actually _huffed_ like a damn pre-teen who wasn’t getting to stay up late – and grit his teeth. “Oh, _brilliant_! _Great_ , I got to beat up Savage’s robo-attack dog. We should have a fucking _party!_ Why don’t you bring along your new friend Cassie and it’ll be a _ball!”_

Incredulous, Snart had to physically stop himself from biting back. “So _that’s_ your problem? You’re _jealous_ because I got to cosy up with Cassie Savage?”

Ray wasn’t meeting his eyes again, his gaze fixed at a point on the wall over Snart’s left shoulder. “ _Yep_. That’s my problem.”

_Stupid boy._ “You can’t lie to a liar, Raymond.”

“I’m- I’m not lying,” Ray faltered, maintaining eye contact with the wall surprisingly well.

“ _Bull_ shit. There is no way in _hell_ you’d lock yourself in here if you really had a problem with me spending a few hours bonding over abusive fathers with some girl who happened to be an _asset_ to the mission.”

“Some _girl_ who just so happens to be stupid, evil, brainwashing, life ruining, _still alive_ Vandal Savage’s daughter.”

Snart could have laughed out loud. “So _that’s_ it. You’re pissed because Carter’s back on board.”

Ray blanched, and Len knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “ _What_?”

“You’re not pissed at _me_ , Raymond. You’re _pissed_ because this whole plan would have worked like a dream if your girlfriend hadn’t thrown it away to get the memories of her braindead soulmate back. You’re _pissed_ because Kendra chose Carter over the mission. Over _you_.”

“She’s… she’s not my girlfriend. Not anymore, Len. You know that! I wouldn’t be,” he waved his hands around in front of him, “doing _this_ if she was.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t still care about her, Raymond.”

Ray looked at his feet.

“What, you afraid to tell me because you thought you might hurt my _feelings,_ Boy Scout?”

Ray swallowed. “Kinda. Yeah. I mean, it’s not that I don’t have… have _feelings_ for you, Len. God, sometimes I wish I didn’t you can be such an ass but I _do_ , Len, I _swear it_.”

“ _Raymond_. Please,” Snart dropped his voice down, losing the drawl and settling his hands lightly at the other man’s hips, “you were together for two years. You wanted to _propose_ to her. Just because you’re not together doesn’t mean all of that goes away, not overnight. Now, I may just be a _rebound fuck_ to you Ray-”

“You’re _not_.” Ray’s head had snapped up, looking at Len with a blazing intensity that made the criminal go a little weak at the knees as he gripped Snart’s forearms like a vice. “You’re _not_. You mean so much to me, _Snart,_ so don’t you even think about brushing yourself off with that crap. Len, I lo-”

“ _Don’t you dare,_ ” Snart growled, hooking his fingers into Ray’s belt loops and edging forward, crowding the other man against the workbench behind him.

Ray looked at him like a kicked puppy and Len couldn’t help but let the hardness drop from his face. “I don’t think I’m emotionally robust enough to stand that kind of sickly-sweet rom-com shit, Raymond. I’ve already filled my ‘sentiment’ and ‘empathy’ quotas for today.”

That fixed it – Ray’s face lit up like a sunrise and his arms dropped to circle Len’s waist. “Does that mean I can’t call you my boyfriend?”

Len smirked, pushing his thumbs up under the scientist’s t-shirt to rub small circles on his hip-bones. “ _Definitely_ not.”

Ray closed his eyes for a brief second, taking in a deep breath. At once, Len felt all of the tension in the other man dissipate, and Ray pulled him a little closer. The physicist exhaled gently, ducking down to bridge their height difference and pressed his face into the angle of Snart’s neck, his chin on the other man’s shoulder.

“I just felt so conflicted,” Ray’s voice was muffled against Len’s skin, “conflicted and _mad_. Who knows if Carter will even get his memories back this lifetime? What if Savage took them for good? I was pissed that Kendra would just throw away the mission on a…,” he squeezed Snart a little tighter, “on a _whim_.  He’s not even the Carter she _knows_. Well, I suppose he is, in a way, but… Urgh. If we were going to give up that easily, why even bother in the first place?”

There were a million things that Snart could do, or even say. A million things that could have helped or hindered. But he chose, in that moment, to just _remain_. To hold the man in his arms, to let Ray find the strength he needed in _him_. After a minute of just _being_ , of the man’s breath against his skin and the strength of his embrace, Snart turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to Ray’s neck.

Another kiss followed, then another, each as gentle as the last, each chasing Ray’s pulse up to his jaw and back down. A shiver ran through Ray’s body as Snart kissed a little more firmly, a hint teeth grazing over flesh…

The shift was swift, catching Len by surprise as Ray’s mouth was suddenly crushing against his own, fiery and wanton with passion. Snart acted on instinct, using his weight to push Ray harder against the workbench, his tongue contesting Ray’s as it drove into his mouth.

Ray moaned into the kiss and Snart broke it, dropping down to his knees and pressing his face against the ill-defined outline of Ray’s forming erection.

Filthy thoughts made Snart’s heart thump a little harder as he inhaled, the delicious scent of sweat and musk at Ray’s crotch telling Len that he hadn’t showered or even _changed_ since his fight with the Leviathan. With nimble, Snart made short work of the man’s fly and was pressing kisses to Ray’s cock through his underwear.

_God, he could almost taste him…_

Ray _moaned_. “Uhhh… here?” It was breathless, _gorgeously_ breathless.

Snart smiled against Ray’s hard-on, his voice muffled in reply. “Why _not_?”

“Ah- Anyone could walk in.”

“Then we’ll give them a _show_ , Raymond.”

Snart waited until he felt the pressure on the back of his head as Ray dropped a hand to guide him before pulling the man’s briefs down to his mid-thigh and taking his length in his mouth.

Len had been right. The whisper of salt along Ray’s shaft, more prominent as he ran his tongue under the ride of his head, mixed with the heady musk that only got stronger as Snart took Ray’s cock down to his base and pressed his nose into the nest of his pubic hair… Ray hadn’t even bothered to shower. It was _exquisite_.

Snart moved one hand up to grip Ray’s cock as he pulled half off, lapping at the drops of pre-come forming at his slit and working back down in waves, his hand following his mouth’s rhythm. Ray’s hand at his head was gripping tighter as he moaned, low and loud, spurring Snart on to lick zigzags across the sensitive underside of his shaft.

“ _God_ Len, I want you,” Ray had his head tilted back, his free hand supporting his weight on the top of the bench.

Snart hummed happily at the admission, grinning internally as Ray moaned a little louder at the feeling.

“No, Len, I _want_ you.”

Len’s eyes snapped upwards, meeting the pair of large brown ones that in the half-light looked almost black. With that curve of lust on his lips and the strands of hair that had fallen across his face, Len was sure that Ray must have been Venus reborn.

He let Ray’s hand cup his jaw, guide him off his length and pull him upwards to standing. His exposed cock vertical against his stomach, Ray initiated the kiss, slipping his tongue between Snart’s lips and tasting himself in the other man’s mouth and _moaning_. Oh _God_ could Ray moan.

The kiss was over too soon, but Ray kept Len’s jaw cupped his palm. They were so close Snart could feel the man’s breath on his lips.

When Ray spoke it was little more than a whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”

“ _Here_?” Len couldn’t keep the smirk from his face, but his cock twitched in appreciation, confined as it was in his jeans.

Nodding slowly, Ray matched his smile. “Uhu.”

“Then it’s a good job I came _prepared_ ,” Len delved into his jacket pocket and produced a sachet of lube and a condom.

Ray grinned. “ _Now_ look who’s the Boy Scout.”

Snart growled, or at least, he intended to growl, but to Ray’s ears it was a deep, sexy purr. Len’s hands dropped to his own fly none the less, working the buttons and zip open and pushing his pants down to mid-thigh, underwear and all. His cock was almost painfully hard, straight up against his stomach and ready and _willing_ to take Ray wherever and whenever the other man so desired.

For his part, Ray made an appreciative noise before turning to clear a space on the workbench behind him; pushing his own pants down to his ankles. Toeing off his shoes and stepping out of his trouser-legs, Ray made a show of pushing himself up to sit on the bench top and spreading his legs out wide.

Len ran his tongue across his bottom lip, eyes tracking the scientist’s motions and settling between his legs. Edging forward, he made to tear open the silvery condom wrapper but was stopped by a firm hand. His eyes flicked up and were caught in the open desire on Ray’s face, the other man’s fingers plucking the condom from his hand.

The breath was gone from Snart’s chest.

“Are you _sure_ this is what you want?” despite himself, Len’s voice was steady and low.

Ray nodded once, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “Yes.”

Len’s heart leaped under his ribs, a smile – a real, genuine smile – forcing its way past the tight control he had over his face. _Fuck_ was Ray just the most unexpected and _beautiful_ thing to ever happen to him. For all his sins, he must have done _something_ right to get landed with a 6’3” pillar of sunshine with abs he could eat off and an ass he could ride for _days_. His cock twitched again, reminding exactly what he should be doing instead of standing there salivating.

He tore open the sachet of lubricant quickly, coating his fingers and moving his hand to hover at Ray’s ball sack. Ray gave him his most impish grin and rocked himself backward, arms bracing his weight against workbench as he lifted his legs further and wrapped them around Snart’s waist.

Len could have whistled at the view, running the tip of his middle finger down across Ray’s perineum to rest over his entrance, then pushing _in_.

“Mmm…” Ray closed his eyes at the pressure, willing himself to relax. He scrunched his eyes shut further as he felt a second lubed finger enter him, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and tensing his thighs around Snart ever so slightly before relaxing again.

Len twisted his fingers inside Ray’s ass, watching the other man shiver as he squeezed a little more lube out and added a third. Ray was tight and he fought it for a second, relaxing his sphincter muscles around Len’s fingers when he remembered to breath. With a flick of his wrist, Snart angled his middle finger up and _stroked_ , grinning at the whimper he tugged out of the younger man as he rubbed across his prostate.

 When Len felt Ray was as slick as he could get him, he pulled his fingers slowly out and dumped the rest of the lube onto his palm, taking his own cock in hand.

Snart moved himself closer to the workbench, his thighs almost touching the wood as he lined himself up with Ray’s ass, his lubricated hand guiding him until his head buffeted against the ring of muscle. Ray made a high pitched, involuntary, whine, his ankles crossing behind Len’s back.

His other hand dropping to rest against the physicist’s hip, Len exhaled slowly, his eyes raking the vision before him. His voice was low, _sexy_ , when he spoke, only the slightest drawl tinging his words. “You’re going to take me now, Raymond.”

“ _Please_ ,” Ray begged, voice near-cracking, and _fuck_ did it suit the man.

Len felt his cock spasm, and he obliged. He pushed in slowly, eyes closing as he felt the sheet _heat_ of the man surround his cock, the pressure of his ass tight against his shaft. He’d been generous enough with the lube that there was almost no resistance, no friction stopping him pushing his length in deep from tip to base. Len let out the breath he’d been holding as his sack hit the skin of Ray’s cheeks.

_God_ he felt good. He felt _divine_ , with nothing separating his flesh from his lover’s.

Len wiped his lubed hand down his pant leg, resting it on Ray’s other hip and gripping tight as he withdrew oh so deliberately. He trust forward with a little more force, drawing out and pushing back and building up momentum in long, firm strokes.

Ray’s mouth had fallen open, his eyes firmly shut to the world as he concentrated on one thing and one thing alone: Snart _fucking him_. The thief was gaining speed and force, each new thrust harder and faster than the last and Ray couldn’t bite it back any more. He didn’t care who heard; hell, the whole _ship_ could be listening and he wouldn’t have batted an eye because all that mattered to him right _then_ and right _there_ was the cock buried eight inches in his ass. Ray _moaned_. Loudly. His hips lifting from the benchtop, his legs tightening around Snart’s middle; Ray let himself make as much noise as he could.

Thrust after thrust Len drove into him, Ray was louder than Snart had ever heard him. _Fuck_ , it did feel good to know that _he_ was making those noises spill out from the other man’s lips. Clenching his jaw, Len canted forward hard, angling a succession of short, sharp thrusts up to where he knew he’d hit Ray’s sweet spot.

In the sweat of it all, in the pure _ecstasy_ of the act, it took Len a minute to realise that he was moaning too. He felt _electric_ , a ball of energy building is his stomach like a growing storm, threatening to rain down heat and lightening oh so soon.

Len let his thrusts slow, rocking his hips firmly against the man below him and watching with a knitted brow as Ray squirmed and writhed.

“ _Come for me._ ”

Ray’s eyes shot open, his pupils blown wide as he met Snart’s gaze. The other man was enraptured, the line of his jaw picked out in the lamplight.

“I want to watch you come, Raymond, for _me_. With me _in_ you. I want to _feel you_ ,” Snart breath was coming hot and fast and in pauses, his fingers tightening against Ray’s skin as the other man shifted himself and brought one hand up stroke his cock.

Len’s eyes fixed on Ray’s dick, tracing the shape of it and following Ray’s hand as he jacked. Snart adjusted his hips to match Ray’s stroked with his thrusts, watching with unconcealed delight as they got faster and faster, and Ray’s eyes screwed shut again.

Ray threw his head back and his back arched against the benchtop and Snart was watching in slow motion. Ray’s legs tensed around him, his biceps bulging and his ass clenching as his orgasm tore through him. Len thrust hard into him against the pressure, and Ray was coming in long, thick spurts up his torso, across his chest and over his hand and by _Christ_ the noise he made…

Half-moan, half-shout, Len knew that that alone could send him over edge, but coupled with the sudden pressure against his cock he stood no chance. The ball of energy uncurled, the lightning striking and fizzing up through his arms and down to his feet and _through_ his cock and he was _coming_. His hips stuttered, thrusting as deep as he could go, Ray’s ass milking him for every last drop he had to give.

Shoulders sagging, Len let himself half-collapse over the workbench, over _Ray_ , breathing hard. It had been _years_ since he’d felt like that, _years_ since his last fuck that good. His mouth was at Ray’s throat, kissing his sweat-soaked skin and not caring one bit that the man’s semen was smearing over his shirt.

Ray’s arms were around him, then, encircling him as he let his legs drop, Ray’s mouth brushing over Len’s cheek and coaxing him into a kiss.

Seconds passed that felt like minutes – hours even; the two men entwined together in a mess of limbs and lips. Snart broke first, pressing his forehead against Ray’s and gazing deep into his eyes with the most honesty he had ever shown to another human being.

The words were there, building up inside of him. They started in his chest, in his heart, and moved laterally, to his lungs, then up. They vibrated through his vocal folds, dancing on his tongue and leaving his lips tingling with warmth and _light_ where he once thought they’d sting.

“ _I love you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was later than I intended it to be, but it's it's still up before the episode airs! Let's cross out fingers and hope our boys get some interaction this week!


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snippets throughout S01E14 'River of Time' - Snart bares the consequences of his little admission at the end of the last chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit awkward to write due to the structure of it, but hopefully not too awkward to read!

The slow, steady sound of his own breath filled Snart’s ears, married with the heat and gentle touch of the body next to him. Sara was deathly still, deathly silent; her own breathing supressed to near-nothing and her muscles tensed. It was cramped; the closets on the Waverider not exactly built for two grown adults to be crammed into them as heavily armed assailants marched outside the door.

He'd known something like this was bound to happen. Right from the get go, _nothing_ had felt right. But he’d squashed it down, put his faith in Rip and the team. Hoped that everything would work itself out and be fine and fucking dandy.

But Leonard Snart had never put much stock in fairy-tale endings. Even if Raymond made him wish he did.

Len closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, getting a pointed look from the assassin beside him for his trouble. With everything with Raymond on top of everything with Savage, it had been one hell of a day.

Len had taken down his walls for Ray. Not entirely, but more than he had for almost anyone else. He’d let himself fall for the man, and _hard_. But more than that, he’d let himself _admit it_.

* * *

 

‘ _I love you.’_

They’d held each other in an embrace for much longer than seemed possible, both panting and sweaty; Ray pushing his face into the curve of Snart’s neck and Len simply letting himself be held. At _that_ moment it could have been just the two of them in the whole universe.

When at last they shifted, broke apart, it was Len who cupped Ray’s cheek in his hand and told him in no uncertain terms that the man _needed_ to wash.

“You smell like a high school locker room, Raymond.”

Ray made a face. “That bad, huh?”

“Hit the showers, all-star.”

“On _one_ condition…”

* * *

 

Snart stood – back to the tiled wall, arms folded over his chest – as Ray stripped down to nothing and stepped under the streams flowing down from one of six shower heads set into the wall. Each shower unit had an opaque curtain that could be pulled around to form a loose cubicle, allowing for the bare minimum levels of privacy that could be afforded on a small ship such as this. Alone as they were, Ray hadn’t bothered.

It was, Len reasoned, only _slightly_ fancier than most of the prison shower blocks he’d experienced, and that mostly came from the lack of mould in the grouting. From his vantage, however, he _wasn’t_ complaining. He wasn’t sure exactly where Raymond found the time to work out, but by _fuck_ the man’s muscle definition was infallible. Snart let his eyes drift over the scientist’s back, resting his gaze at his ass as Ray stretched his arms up over his head.

“Enjoying the show, _Leonard?_ ” Ray grinned over his shoulder, wiggling his hips teasingly, “you know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted _company_ …”

Len had huffed, tried to make excuses, but Ray with his big, sad puppy dog eyes was ever impossible to refuse. With only the mildest coercion, Snart was stripping off – ignoring the appreciative whistle he received as he pushed down his underwear, his cock lazily sitting at half-mast – and stepping into the streams.

Ray pulled him into his chest at once, letting the hot water run down over them both, warming Len’s skin and teasing his blood to the surface. Ray’s cheek pressed against his and it wasn’t a surprise when the taller man moved into a kiss.

Lips parted, tongues met, Ray’s hands were cupping his ass. Before he knew it, Snart was being pressed into the tiled wall behind him, Ray grinding his hard cock against his like they hadn’t fucked in days, let alone in half an hour.

Ray spun him a perfect 180, there was the press of something slick at his entrance, and the man was pushing into him with a groan.

It wasn’t the first time Leonard Snart had been fucked in a communal shower block, and it wouldn’t be the last – though this was certainly less voyeuristic than he was used to.

Ray’s lips were pressed to Len’s shoulder blades, the back of his neck, his scalp. So long had Snart deprived him of those three little words, Ray Palmer couldn’t keep them out of his damned mouth.

_I love you. I love you. I love you._  

One for every thrust, one for every kiss.

Firm but gentle, Ray’s hand closed around Len’s cock as he moaned, stroking him as he thrust into him deep and hard. His pace changed in time with Snart’s moans, each new movement tailored to eek every ounce of pleasure from the thief, each pull at his cock and each push against his prostate nudging Len closer and closer to the edge.

Snart came hard, one hand braced against the wall as his semen splashed against the tiles, and Ray was close behind him. Still raw from their encounter in the lab, Ray pressed his chest against the other man’s back as he pushed in up to his base and _let go_ , biting into Snart’s shoulder blade as he filled him.

Len couldn’t help it, he _moaned_. Ray’s teeth left his skin, leaving behind little white indents, then his lips were at his neck, kissing him over and over.

“I love you.” The words left Snart’s mouth between ragged breaths, and Ray was pulling out of him, spinning him round and kissing his mouth.

That moment, pressed together under hot water, steam filling the room, was little short of heaven. As much heaven as Snart ever thought he’d get to see, anyway.

* * *

 

 “ _Doctor Palmer, Carter Hall is being moved from the infirmary_. _Miss Saunders thought you might like to know,”_ Gideon’s voice resonated through the shower block as Ray was towelling his hair, already dressed.

A frown furrowing the man’s eyebrows, Len leant up and kissed him lightly. “ _Go_. I’ll be on the bridge if you need me.”

And Ray went.

* * *

 

But that was when the feelings rushed back. The tingles at the ends of his fingers, down his spine, making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. The displaced dread. Something wasn’t right. He couldn’t pin it down, but everything felt _off_ , felt _wrong_. There was a storm brewing, and it was only a matter of time before lightning struck.

* * *

 

_Alexa_.

Mick agreed. Time to get the hell out of doge, _ASAP_. They needed to _go_ and they needed to go _now_.

Naturally Ray objected, hero type that he was. Even when death was staring him in the face, Raymond wouldn’t move aside. He was stubborn, his good will too strong. It was what Snart _hated_ about him. It was what Snart _loved_ about him.

* * *

 

The jumpship was gone, Jax with it. _Shit_. The feeling in Snart’s fingers had progressed down his spine and was now sitting squarely behind his stomach, pinching his kidneys.

Not that he would have done anything different in Stein’s place. The old man cared deeply about their teammate and Rip had fucked him over beyond measure. He’d fucked them _all_ over, one way or another. Len would have taken Rip’s fingers for that, if he ever got the chance. But they were trapped, _all_ of them.

Time to grit teeth and face the fire.

* * *

 

_Fuck._

He _knew_ it was only a matter of time.

Wounds that deep didn’t heal by a handful of words and a few fucks no matter how meaningful, and Savage had millennia to master manipulation. Of _course_ Raymond was so easily provoked. Of _course_ he’d made an uncalculated, _stupid_ , move based on unbridled emotion from his damned lizard brain.

PhDs or no, the man was an _idiot_.

_If they ever got out of this alive,_ Snart thought, _he’d kill him_.

Mick was next to him, Ray at his six, Kendra just behind. The perfect little fighting squadron.

Savage’s voice echoed through the corridor. “Who are _you_ to stand up against _me_ , _Vandal Savage_ , _destroyer_ of _empires_!?”

“ _Leonard Snart_ , _robber_ of ATMs!”

Then everything was blue, his heart pounding in his chest and ice running through his veins. Mick was a blaze of red through the heart of it all, Raymond firing burst after burst of energy.

But the Ray was down, Savage letting him fall to the ground with a thump, and Snart’s throat was tighter than his finger on the trigger.

Another wave of blue, then everything went _black_.

* * *

 

“ _Len!”_

It was distant, a voice calling from far off. Almost unreachable.

“ _LEN!”_

Even then it seemed faint, like the slightest breeze could carry it away. It was familiar, though. That voice. He knew it. But where? Maybe he should-

“ _Come on Lenny, wake up!_ ”

Snart grunted, his eyes flicking open and shutting again at the sudden bright light. He tried to move but every muscle in his body seemed to cry out in protest, the dull pounding in his head spiking to a sharp, violent point. No, moving wasn’t going to happen, not yet.

“There are only two people on this Earth that can call me ‘Lenny’ without consequences, Raymond. My _sister_ ,” Snart forced his eyes back open against the glare, “and _Mick_.” And Barry Allen, but that was by the by, and not worth mentioning in front of his…. _boy_ friend? Had they labelled it yet?

Ray was crouched over him, still in his ATOM suit sans his helmet and gloved. There was blood dried to his temple and a little around his nostrils, but despite this he still managed to look _cheery_.

_Bastard_.

“Do I not get special privileges since you confessed your love for me?” If Raymond had been anyone else, Snart would have thought he was detecting a hint of sarcasm… But Ray had stuck his lip out in a pout and he’d reached over to squeeze Len’s arm.  

Snart pretended to consider of a moment, shoving himself up to sitting before fixing Raymond’s hopeful gaze with a hard stare.

“ _No_.”

* * *

 

Carter, as Snart, Ray and Mick were brusquely informed, had regained his memories _Deus ex Machina_ style and helped Kendra overpower Savage before he managed to get himself stabbed. _Again_. Kendra had hawked out, saved the day as per, while Sara retained her title of ‘Queen of Badassery’ and flew the ship by hand through the timestream and parallel parked it at the Vanishing Point.

All while the three of them were out cold.

Rip took charge once again, nursing his shoulder, and lost no time in dragging their recaptured prisoner off ship and straight into the hornet’s nest that posed as the Time Masters’ little HQ.

Naturally, Raymond’s first priority was _Carter_. Always. Perhaps it was his guilt at letting Savage manipulate him, letting whatever he still felt for Kendra push forth over rational thought, or maybe it was his nauseating ‘always help others’ mentality, but the man couldn’t leave Carter in the infirmary alone.

Leonard took a pass on accompanying him. “Still nursing a concussion,” he’d said, trying to convince himself that that uneasy feeling in his chest and those tingles _still_ running down his spine were just another side effect of the head trauma. They were turning their prisoner over to the Time Masters, they’d succeeded. Right?

Raymond had nodded empathetically, pulling him in to a kiss right there on the bridge. When his lips left Len’s and his eyes fluttered open, Ray had that look about him that Snart _knew_ what was coming. He’d have cursed it, if he’d had the energy.

“I’ll see you soon, Len. I love you.”

_I love you, too_.

He didn’t say it. Couldn’t. Not in front of Mick or Sara – who’s eyebrows had shot up instantly – there were some barriers Snart daren’t try to hurdle yet. Instead, he fixed Ray with his best ‘ _get out of here_ ’ glare, but Ray knew exactly what he had meant.

When the scientist had disappeared from view, Mick whistled long and low while Sara grabbed Snart’s arm – vicelike –  and yanking him off down the corridor with a smirk.

“I’ve got a poker game with ‘spill it, Snart’ written on the back of every card.”

“You’d be so lucky,” Len bit back, but his heart wasn’t in it.

* * *

 

Even as he sat by the bed, scrutinising the hand he’d been dealt, it was still there. The _feeling_. Right at the tips of his fingers.

His head snapped to the door when he heard the footsteps and his heart sunk to his stomach. He’d been right. He _knew_ he’d been right.

_Alexa._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did an okay job at coldatomifying the last episode. This would have been out waayyy earlier but life got in the way, I'm afraid.


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 15 - DESTINY 
> 
> Ray and Mick struggle with Len's sacrifice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have too many emotions to deal with at the moment so I channeled them into writing this chapter ASAP.

_Crushed_. There was no better way to describe the feeling. It was as if all of his ribs had been splintered at once and his heart impaled with the fragments. He couldn’t breathe, there was no air in his lungs to expire, and his stomach was so tight he could feel the bile at the back of his throat.

It was a feeling Ray Palmer knew all too well.

When he had watched Anna’s life be taken from her, Ray had sworn to himself he’d never love again. Never let himself feel _this_ again.

But there he was, laid out in the medbay with nothing but a bump to the fucking head, doing _exactly_ that.

_Len was dead._

Sara stood before of him, her jaw set and her fists clenched as she fought to maintain her composure, but her eyes – _God, her eyes_ – were brimming with unshed tears as she recounted what had happened in the Oculus in a stiff monotone.

Ray wanted to scream. He wanted to shout. He wanted to turn the ship around and go _back_. Timejump to _before_ , save Len’s life. But he couldn’t. He was stuck, paralysed.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to play out. It was supposed to have been _him_. Not Len. He’d been at peace with that. He’d _made_ peace with that. Going out on one final high, saving his friends, saving _Len_. _He_ was supposed to be dead. Len shouldn’t have been the sacrificial lamb.

From the bed next to him there was a roar. It cut through the room like a chainsaw blade, the _anger,_ the _pain_ in it, like a wounded beast, making even Sara flinch back. Mick was on his feet, the metal frame of a medical trolley gripped in his fists as he swung it _hard_ against the hull.

Bandages, scissors, syringes still in their packets clattered to the floor, trays spilling over as Mick struck the trolley to the wall over and over, the crash of metal on metal barely dampening his screams. Hit after hit, the legs buckled and the aluminium top crumpled long before the power left Mick’s swings and he threw the mangled mess to one side. He turned, red faced, chest heaving, and stormed from the room, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Sara swallowed bodily, blinking away her tears, and squeezed Ray’s shoulder, but he was too numb to register it.

Then Sara, too, was gone, leaving Ray alone with nothing but the blinking medical lights and his pain.

* * *

 

Ray didn’t know where he got the energy from to leave the medbay. Hell, he didn’t know how he managed to stand. But he did. He made it to the bridge, he pulled on his optimism like a well-worn jacket and spoke what he knew to be the true.

_Leonard had been a hero._

As much as the man would have hated to admit it, he’d been the most heroic of them all.

 _The stupid son of a bitch_.

* * *

 

When Ray found Mick later in the mess hall, twisting Len’s ring in his hands, everything seemed _wrong_.

Mick’s anger was gone, replaced the crushing weight bearing down on Ray’s shoulders. He was that same wounded beast, but all the fight was gone. He’d laid down in the dirt, resigned to his fate.

He bit down the jealous twinge in his stomach when Mick told him about the ring, about what it meant. That Len planted it on him before-

Ray swallowed.

Before Len had chosen death over leaving his partner behind, _again_. Whatever was between the two men, Ray knew he could never hope to challenge it, no matter how much love he’d had to give. Not that that mattered, now.

Not that it ever would again.

* * *

 

He didn’t know what time it was. With them floating through the continuum as they were, time wasn’t ever really linear here. But the Waverider’s internal circadian rhythms had swung round to night hours ago, and Ray could not sleep.

Everything was too _quiet_. Everything was too _empty_.

Ray had been eager to turn in, find solace in his isolation like he did with Anna. He’d cried, let himself go. Sobbed every last tear he’d had to give until all he felt was the emptiness, and the weight. No, sleep wouldn’t find him tonight.

The hours passed and the melancholic lethargy seeped slowly from his bones, and suddenly Ray was restless. He twitched, he turned, he _paced_ back and forth across his bunk until he was driving his fists against the wall until his knuckles bled.

He was _angry_. Angry at Leonard for being so _selfish._ Angry at Mick for taking his place.

 _It should have been_ me. _It should have been_ me!

And Ray was crying again, in big, ugly sobs wracking through his body.

It wasn’t _fair_. None of it was.

* * *

 

The small hours of the morning left the Waverider eerily quiet. Ray could hear every one of his footsteps echo softly off the walls. His eyes were red and sunken, his knuckles raw where the skin was broken. He hoped that a walk through the ship might do him some good; help clear the fug from his skull.

He hadn’t meant to come here. Shit, he’d meant to stay _away_ from here. But somehow he still found himself staring down the door to Len’s bunk. With trembling fingers, he reached forward and swiped the access bar once. The door slid open, and Ray stepped inside.

Something moved and Ray nearly cried out, flailing for the light switch in the dark.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” Mick was sat – hunched forwards – on what had been Snart’s bed, one of Len’s shirts clutched in one hand while the other toyed with the small ring.

Ray shook his head, eyes flitting between Mick and door, unsure whether to go or stay. He didn’t want to intrude.

But Mick jerked his head, patting the mattress next to him. He watched with a steeled gaze as Ray picked his way across the room and sat gingerly in the space. There was an inch between them, but Mick’s shoulders almost brushed against Ray’s as she shifted, hand clasping his shoulder as Ray turned to face him. The other man scrutinised the mess of his face; his dark circles and bloodshot eyes. Ray rubbed his chin subconsciously and Mick had grabbed his wrist, his gaze shifting to his bloody knuckles.

“You know you’re supposed to leave the punching things to me, Haircut,” he said in a rumble just loud enough to hear.

Ray shrugged sheepishly. “I was… angry.”

Mick grunted and let go of his wrist, settling back round to stare at the blank wall over the bed that used to be his. “Angry’s good. Means you’re feeling something.”

Ray let his gaze linger on Mick’s profile, trying to read whatever storm was raging beneath the surface. “Are you not… _feeling_?” he said haltingly. His pause seemed ugly and his words abrasive, but eloquence was a long way off right now.

“Oh no, I’m feeling, Boy Scout. _Everything_ ,” Mick stuck his tongue in his cheek, “all the _hate_ , all the _fear_ , all the _anger._ But… everything else too. The _joy_ , the _ecstasy_ , the _love_. Everything the last thirty years has been.”

Any words that Ray had access to were closed off, barred from him and leaving him floundering on the edge of a precipice. His heart _ached_ , but what was his pain compared to Mick’s? He’d known Len for so little time in comparison.

“You and Len,” he tried, folding his arms across his stomach.

“-were _complicated_ ,” Mick finished for him, shooting him a small smile.

Ray was pulled roughly against Mick’s side and the other man hummed.

“Len always had a _plan_ , Haircut. Never took a piss without one. Every entrance, every exit, every little cubby hole _cased_ and _documented_ , didn’t matter where he was. In juvie, in prison, on a job, it was all the same. Saved my ass more times than I can count. I ran _hot_. _Always_ did, _still_ do. When I wanted to go out and wreak hell, when all I could see was the _fire_ and the _fury_ , Lenny was there. He kept me grounded. Solid. Always has.”

Ray felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t push past it.

“I spent _lifetimes_ at the Vanishing Point. All I could think about was hate. I _hated_ him, Ray. I hated him with every _ounce_ of me. I wanted him _dead_. I wanted him to _hurt_ , like he’d hurt me. Betrayed me. Left me to die. Didn’t even have the guts to pull the trigger and put me out of my misery. No. But in the end, after all the shit had settled, Lenny was still that _same_ punk kid. That same kid I saved. That same kid that grew up with nothing but a shitstain for a father. All he ever wanted to do was keep his sister safe. She was all he had.”

“He had _you_.”

The muscle in Mick’s jaw twitched. “Yeah. He had me. A fucked up psychopath with a hard-on for arson. Fat lot of good that did him. What did I ever bring him, Boy Scout, other than a big ol’ barrel of hurt. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be _alive_.”

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be… He loved you, you know.” It was a small admission, and it made his stomach clench to say, but Ray knew it was the truth. And it was the truth that Mick needed to hear.

“Hmmm,” Mick hummed deeply, turning his head to meet Ray’s eyes, “he loved _you,_ too, Raymond.”

The lump in Ray’s throat tightened and his eyes were stinging again. The corners of his mouth were tugging down of their own will and his lungs were burning. At once Mick’s arms were around him and he was being pressed into the man’s chest.

Ray gripped onto Mick’s shirt weakly, letting the man’s bulk muffle his sobs while Mick’s arms held him firm, his thumbs rubbing circles over Ray’s back.

Minutes passed. When the sobs had tempered down to sniffles, Ray pushed himself away from Mick enough to wipe his face with his hands, before looking guiltily at the damp patch of tears and snot he’d left on the other man’s shirt.

Mick looked down and shrugged, “I’ve had worse.”

That dragged a weak smile out of Ray, the scientist running his fingers through his hair and clearing his throat. “Thank you, Mick.”

The other man grunted. “Don’t mention it.”

A few awkward seconds passed between them before Ray exhaled loudly, pushing himself to his feet. “I should probably go-”

But Mick’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, his eyes narrowing for a split second, something like fire burning behind them. “ _Stay_.”

“Uh?” Ray’s eyes flicked between Mick and Len’s bed, confusion singing white noise through his skull.

Mick cleared his throat. “There’s plenty of room. I, uh, like the company. Might even catch some sleep.” His eyes had dropped and were focussed on something particularly interesting on the floor, his tongue wedged in his cheek.

Something akin to relief washed through Ray, the terrifying prospect of being alone – at least tonight – suddenly gone. Mick, too, he realised, had been dreading it. Dreading facing his grief alone. Sure, the team has _all_ lost a friend, but no one had lost him quite like Mick and Ray. They had solidarity in one another. They had understanding.

“Of course,” Ray murmured, letting himself breathe.

At once all the tension left Mick’s body and Ray was permitted a glimpse beneath that hard exoskeleton the criminal wore like armour. The Mick who cared about the team. The Mick who had saved his life _twice._

Mick toed off of his boots and pushed himself back on the bed, laying down on his side with his head propped on Len’s pillows. He patted the empty space on the mattress in front of him.

“See? Plenty of room.”

Despite himself, Ray grinned. He’d never taken Mick as the spooning type, but then again, he hadn’t taken Len for it either. That hadn’t stopped the thief demanding little spoon rights whenever he deigned to spend the whole night in Ray’s bed.  

In a few swift motions, Ray’s shoes were gone and the light was flicked off, earning an appreciative grunt from the Mick-shaped silhouette. Ray settled himself down in the space left for him, his back brushing against Mick’s chest and their legs nesting together like puzzle pieces.

As Ray’s head hit the pillow he was almost overwhelmed. This was Len’s bed, Len’s pillow, Len’s comforter. It all carried his scent like he was still there; like any moment now he’d be slipping through the door and bemoaning the two men for leaving him no room to squeeze in. Eyelids heavy, Ray smiled.

Yes, a few more sarcastic comments thrown in and maybe a threat or two. Then he’d insist that as it was _his_ bed, he was entitled to sleep in it no matter what, and force himself in between them.

That was Len. _His_ Len. _Their_ Len.

And by _God_ Ray was tired, so very tired. It all came crashing down at once, every last bit of the day, sucking all of the energy from him. Vandal Savage, Rip Hunter, the Time Masters. Everything that had happened, everything they’d seen. The death, the torture, the _Oculus._

Behind his eyelids, visions swam. He saw the world burning, he saw Kendra’s wings beat, he saw a swathe of blonde hair twist and he saw Anna’s neck break; then he saw himself – his death, or what it would have been, if Mick hadn’t-

Len’s face flashed once, surrounded by writhing blue light. His mouth was perched open and the light was _inside him_ …

Mick’s arm closed around Ray’s middle, pulling him close, and Ray was drifting into a deep, fathomless sleep.

 _There are no strings on me._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely do not think that Len is dead. Not a chance. Not one bit. 
> 
> (I was maybe a little heavy on the atomwave and coldwave here, but let's be real, Mick and Len are genuinely married.)


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of their victory, Rip has dropped the other legends back into their own timelines with a proposition... but Ray and Mick are still aboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set toward the end of 'Legendary', before Mick goes to see Len in 2013 (and then after, but before the very end)
> 
> Taking it as given that there's about a week between dropping everyone off in 2016 and them all coming together at the end of the episode.

Ray didn’t have anywhere to go. Star City wasn’t his home anymore; it couldn’t be. Too many memories. Too much pain. And besides, he was still legally dead. There was nothing there for him, nothing permanent, anyway.

After everything they’d been through, after everything they’d _done_ , the _Waverider_ was his home now. The _team_ was his family.

But that weight was still there, pressing down on his chest. It was duller, now. Sometimes. Knowing that Savage was finally dead, that Len had… had _sacrificed_ himself for _something_ at least, it made things a little easier. Made the pain recede a little.

 Sometimes.

But sometimes it wasn’t. Ray would stare at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and it would all come crashing back down on top of him, stealing the air from his lungs. He’s splash water on his face, wipe the tears from his eyes and put on his _smile_. The smile was _important_. The smile kept him going; kept the _team_ going. It was his armour, his shield, his brace.

He let it drop in front of Mick.

Not that he had a choice: he’d get punched if he didn’t. Mick didn’t take that kind of shit, especially not from him.  

Despite everything, Mick was still the strong one. Mick _understood_. Mick followed Ray to the bathroom when he felt like he was going to explode or pass out. Mick stood stoic as Ray planted his face in his chest, one large hand resting on Ray’s back, the other sometimes at his hip, sometimes at the back of his head, his thumbs rubbing small circles into Ray’s skin.

Mick understood.

He understood the gaping hole Len had left behind. He felt it, too. More so, even.

They had an arrangement, the two of them. They were each other’s port in the never ending storm.

Sleeping alone was never an option.

Ray would climb in between the sheets next to the bigger man, Mick’s arm fastening around him like a stanchion, holding him fast into the night.

“You don’t… _mind_ , do you?” Ray whispered into the darkness on one such night.

Mick’s grip tightened around him in such a way that Ray was sure that – if they hadn’t been spooning – he’d have got a slap upside the head.

“You’re an idiot, ya know that?” Mick growled against his back, “If I minded d’ya really think I’d let you stay?”

“It’s just that… ugh I don’t _know-_ ” Ray floundered.

Mick grunted. “Used to do this for Len all the time, _way_ back when. We were just kids. _Fuck_ that was a long time ago now. Heh,” Mick paused, taking in a deep breath, “Len’d get these _nightmares_. Real _bastard_ ones. He’d wake up in a cold sweat, shaking like shit and his heart going like a fucking freight train. Tried everything to get rid of ‘em, but getting drunk, getting high… wasn’t nothing or half as good as me just,” he tightened his arm, pulling Ray against him a little firmer, “ _being_ there. Doing _this_.”

There was a pause. Ray felt compelled to speak, but nothing came. Nothing he could say would be fit to follow that admission, that little snippet from Len’s past; that little window into him that Ray knew Snart hadn’t deigned him to see. Not yet.

 _Not ever._ Not anymore.

“Anyways,” Mick picked back up, his tone a little lighter, “you ain’t so much of a fidgeter.”

Ray felt a hot current of air as Mick exhaled heavily against the back of his neck and he shivered involuntarily.

“There was… there was just _so much_ I didn’t know about him,” Ray said quietly, Mick’s arm shifting around him.

Mick hummed an affirmation. “He was like that. Never liked talking much about his past. I only knew ‘cause I was there, you know? Don’t take it personal like. He woulda opened up eventually. Ply him with some scotch, at least, and then the stories would all come out,” Mick tilted his head so his nose was pressed into the back of Ray’s head and smiled into the man’s hair, “the good ‘ens, anyway. Lot a pain and a lot of hurt in Len’s past – in _both_ our pasts – but a lot of fun, too. Lot of crazy shit.”

Ray brought a hand up to grasp Mick’s forearm lightly and swallowed, building up the courage to speak. “Would you… would you tell me about it, Mick? The stories. The adventures. All the… the _crazy shit_.” There was silence for a second and Ray jumped back in quickly. “I mean you don’t have to if you don’t want to or, or _can’t_ because it’s too painful or-”

“ _Shut up_.”

“What?” Ray twisted his head around to try and get a look at the man behind him, taken by surprise at the brusqueness of the command.

“I can’t tell you _shit_ if your running your mouth like a pre-teen,” Mick said, his voice rumbling against the skin of Ray’s back.

“So you… will?” Ray asked tentatively.

This time their spooning did _not_ get in the way of the back of Mick’s hand connecting firmly with Ray in a slap, though it was his thigh rather than the back of his head.

“Ow!”

“Be _quiet_.”

And so it went. Each night, with Ray tucked against his chest, Mick would recount a story or two from his long and somewhat depraved history as Snart’s criminal partner. From big heists, fuckups, and funny little anecdotes to the way that, on a hot summer’s day, Mick would trudge up to the ice cream truck in sandals and a tank top to buy popsicles. Lisa liked strawberry, Len liked blue raspberry, and Mick didn’t give a shit so long as the Snart kids were smiling.

“Couldn’t have been more than, what, twenty-four?” Mick adjusted his hold on Ray as the scientist shuffled back against him, “and Lenny still grinned like a little kid when there was _ice cream_. Lisa was young, then. Still a teenager, for all the shit she caused. Had Lenny running around after her trying to fix all her fuckups. Buried a few of the guys myself. That girl was a fucking honey trap for trouble. Still is, only Len ain’t around to ice her exes anymore…”

Ray felt the man behind him sigh heavily and press his forehead against the back of Ray’s head.

“Nearly thirty _fucking_ years and I didn’t even get to say a fucking _goodbye_.” Mick’s voice was low, barely audible, like the distant rumble of thunder.

Ray moved, then, twisting himself around in Mick’s arms to face the bigger man, slipping his own arm around Mick’s waist and pushing his leg between Mick’s thighs so that the two of them were entangled in a messy embrace.

Face to face, Ray searched Mick’s eyes in the semi-darkness. “What would you have said, do you think, if you’d had the chance?”

Mick snorted. “That he was _batshit_ ,” he paused, running his tongue across his lips, his voice dropping, “…and that he was hero, a _real_ hero. And that I loved him.”

“You still could. Say it, I mean.” Ray wasn’t sure where it had come from; maybe the tightness in his own chest had prompted him, or maybe it had been the sombre, crestfallen frown set into Mick’s jaw, but an idea gripped him suddenly, sending his heart racing as his mind clicked and whirred and calculated.

“Huh?” Mick pitched him with a half squint that was almost threatening.

But Ray wasn’t perturbed. His idea, if Rip agreed, was sound. Solid. Any damage to the timeline would be inconsequential – though practically anything they could do to the timeline would be peanuts compared to what they’d done in the past five months. No, this would work.

Ray allowed himself a breath, trying to push down the rising wave of excitement at the _genius_ of his plan, simple though it may be.

“I mean,” Ray started, meeting Mick’s eyes, “this _is_ a timeship.”

 

* * *

 

Mick was silent on the walk back to the Waverider, his jaw set and his fists clenching and unclenching, the now familiar sight of Snart’s ring on the chain around his neck.

Ray kept up a valiant small talk with Rip about the future of the team and the prospects of protecting the timeline, all the while his insides aching as they boarded the ship and left 2013 and Snart along with it.

Rip said they could come back at any time, to this exact spot and this exact moment. Maybe next time, Ray would have the courage to go inside. Maybe he’d be brave enough to steal a glimpse of the man he loved; the man he was _before_. Not this time. No, this time had been for Mick. It would have been wrong for Ray to take that from him, as much as it pained him to be _so close_.

As the ship settled into the gentle turbulence of the timestream, Ray stood on the bridge staring listlessly out into the swirling and undulating colours, thinking about what might have been; if he’d been the one to die, or Mick.

Looking over his shoulder, Ray opened his mouth to voice his thoughts and stopped. Rip was bent over the holotable, examining charts with his 18th century sextant and muttering under his breath. But Mick… _Mick_ was nowhere in sight.

Ray found him in the toilet block, both taps on full and his forehead pressed against the glass of the mirror. His shoulders were hunched, his hands gripping the edge of the sink with white knuckles. There was pain in his stance, a week’s worth of pent up grief in his chest just waiting to spill out. Seeing Snart, alive and well in 2013, had tipped him over the edge.

Letting the door close softly behind him, Ray raised his voice over the sound of rushing water.

“ _Mick_ …”

At once, Mick’s head snapped around, his face flushed red and his eyes glinting with unshed tears.  

Blinked and he would’ve missed it but Ray was sure he’d seen a flash of fear in the other man’s eyes that quickly washed over with the relief of recognition.

It was _Ray_. Ray was _safe_.

“Hey, Haircut…,” he managed to get out past the lump in his throat, and in a few awkward motions Mick had turned himself around, the heel of his palm pressing into the corners of his eyes, “you alright?”

The concern in his voice evident, Ray’s brow furrowed, “ _I’m_ fine, Mick. _You’re_ not.”

Mick shrugged, driving his hands deep into his pockets. “I’ll live.”

He was putting his tough-guy suit back on like armour. It was an impenetrable wall built up and fortified over a lifetime of necessity.

Ray moved forward slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal, and kept his voice low. “You know it’s… it’s _okay_. To _feel_. To _cry_.”

“It’s _weak_.”

“No. No it’s not. You’ve told me a thousand times to let it out, not to bottle it up, that I’ll feel better for it.”

Mick sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, avoiding Ray’s eyes poignantly. “Hm.”

“Now it’s your turn. Don’t keep all that _grief_ pent up inside, Mick,” Ray had crossed the room, now, and Mick was barely a foot in front of him. Ray reached out with a gentle tenderness and laid his palm over Mick’s chest, above his heart. “I’m _here_.”

Mick crumbled.

It was like watching a landslide; one little piece breaking off and falling, then another and another, bigger and bigger, until the whole mountainside was coming down in an unstoppable force.

Mick was clutching Ray’s shirt, his face pressed into his shoulder, and Ray was suddenly aware of his own size. He wasn’t as heavy as Mick, but he was just as tall. All of the weight he did have was muscle mass and he _used_ it; holding the other man upright and taking the weight of his sorrow.

It was his turn to be that solid force Mick had been for him. It was his turn to bear the burden of Mick’s loss, of _their_ loss, and act as the strut Mick needed to keep himself from collapsing under it all. After all, Ray _understood_.

The two men stood there, the sound of rushing water drowning out the wrenching sobs that Mick had held inside for so long.

Ray simply held him, one hand firm on Mick’s back and the other stroking small circles into the nape of his neck.

Len was gone. Savage was dead but Len was still _gone_. Ripped out from under their feet.

Ray sucked in a breath, tightening his grip on the man in his arms.

They still had each other. They still had the team. Snart’s sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. He wouldn’t be forgotten; they wouldn’t let him be. The work they were going to do now, _protecting_ the timeline, _saving_ the world… every single life they saved, _that_ would be Snart’s legacy.

As a hero.

As a _legend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it, folks. One heartwrenching companion fic to the first season of Legends of Tomorrow that started out as a bit of fun - 'oo what if they fuck in a supply closet!?' - and then turned into this monstrosity. 
> 
> I can't apologise enough. 
> 
> ~There will be a short epilogue to follow~


	17. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~

_Everything was light. Everything was heat, and cold. Everything was blinding colour; white light rolling and surging like the swell of the tide then breaking on the shore, diffusing out across the spectrum._

_The light filled him, through his ears, in his eyes, his nose and mouth and he was_ floating _. Drifting. Riding the waves like a lost buoy in a storm._

_There was no air to breathe, but he didn’t need it. In his chest his heart still beat, but simply because it knew no other existence. It was habit. The light was flowing through his body, now. He didn’t need the blood in his veins. He didn’t need air in his lungs. He needed_ nothing _, now. Not now he could finally_ see _._

_And Leonard Snart saw_ everything _. From the first picosecond after the big bang right up to the last, dying, guttural breath of the universe. He saw and he_ understood _._

_It was time. He was looking at time. Through time._

_Or time was looking through him. He wasn’t certain, couldn’t be._

_Every possible iteration flashed through him, every outcome. Nothing was set in stone; only beginning, only end. The only inevitabilities._

_Everything else was merely filler, padding, inconsequential substance between the two._

_Everything was cyclical, choices were meaningless. Everything in chaos, everything fractal, yet…_

_Nothing was insignificant._

_It was beautiful. It was terrifying. He_ saw _and_ beheld _and_ bore witness _. The birth of a million stars, the death of countless civilisations. Living and dying and being reborn._

_Then-_

_The tug of a memory, something in his soul pulling him and he was looking at a familiar face. It took him much too long to recognise it as his own._

_There, next to him, another man._ Mick _. They were young. His knuckles were bloody, his eye bruised, Mick was slamming him against a wall, shouting. There was fire in his eyes, burning him up from inside out. In Snart’s there was only ice._

Disconnect.

_Empires turned to dust, a new seed growing on a far off world, a winged creature rising high beneath a binary sunset._

Reconnect.

_Len watched himself take Mick’s cock in his mouth, remembering the taste of him; the ghost of it sitting on his tongue. He watched himself make the man come, tears at the corners of Mick’s eyes. It was raw, emotional. Mick pulled him up and kissed him with a burning passion._

Disconnect.

_A lonely figure atop a city scape, gazing at a burning wreck below him. A knife slicing through skin, tearing viscera, again and again and again._

Reconnect.

_His father’s hand around the neck of a broken bottle, his sister’s tear stained face._

Disconnect.

_An endless sky reaching out in hues of red and orange. A storm building in the distance._

Reconnect.

_Mick again. Surrounded by flames, the gun in his hand spewing fire and brimstone like a preacher to an apathetic mass. The grin on his face spoke of boundless joy._

_A streak of red, lighting flashing._

_Barry Allen._

Disconnect.

_Sheets of frozen nitrogen extending into gaseous tundra, the liquid below dark and deep. Something moved beneath the surface. Something large._

Reconnect.

**Raymond _._**

_The tug in Snart’s chest grew stronger. He watched as Ray kissed him, as Ray held him tight. As Raymond, sweet Raymond, rocked his hips in slow, steady rhythm as they made love._

Disconnect.

_The blackness of deep space, a distant galaxy spinning-_

_No!_

Reconnect.

“I love you.”

_It was an amalgam; Snart’s own voice mingled with Lisa’s, with Mick’s, with_ Ray’s _._

_Faces flashed, and then were gone._

Disconnect.

.

.

**Reconnect.**

_Snart found he could open his mouth, his trigeminal nerve synapsing at last with his lateral pterygoid and Len felt his own membrane potential shift, he felt the wave of electricity, he felt every electron spin._

_The light surrounding him, filling him, tasted like bitter metal; copper and iron and blood and electricity. Like the air after a lightning strike._

_There was no air to fill his lungs._

_No sound came when he screamed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. That's the end. This thing is now complete. Len is nOT DEAD. HE'S ALIVE AND TRAPPED IN THE FUCKING TIME STREAM. 
> 
> I do have a plotbunny idea that will FIX THIS FOR EVERYONE. I plan to write this over the summer, after my exams are finished. It won't necessarily correlate exactly with this fic in that you won't need to read this one to know what's going on in that one, but they'll kinda sorta loosely follow on from one another.   
> (So much so, I may use this or a variant of this epilogue as the prologue, who knows!) But that won't be until July, anyway. 
> 
> I really truly hope you've enjoyed this fic, I've put a hell of a lot of time into it and I've loved every second. And I love each and every one of you! Thank you so much for reading, making it through where my writing has been sub par, and where I've tried my best to fix the mistakes canon has made. 
> 
> I love our boys, and I promise I won't let this ship die. It means so much to me. 
> 
> Psyro   
> (come scream at me on [ tumblr ](http://chesacakeripper.tumblr.com))
> 
> _But Mousie, thou are no thy-lane,_  
>  In proving foresight may be vain:  
> The best laid schemes o' Mice an' Men,  
> Gang aft agley,  
> An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,  
> For promis'd joy! 
> 
> _Still, thou art blest, compar'd wi' me!_  
>  The present only toucheth thee:  
> But Och! I backward cast my e'e,  
> On prospects drear!  
> An' forward, tho' I canna see,  
> I guess an' fear! 


End file.
